


The Last Horcrux

by PeregrineBones



Series: Tales of Spinner's End [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern
Genre: Death Eater Healing, Death Eaters Are Evil, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Ghosts at spinners end, Harry And Ginny Get Married, Horcruxes, Introducing Phoenix Lupin Snape, It isn't easy loving a werewolf, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Male Pregnancy, New Baby, Parenting Challenges
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 45,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26894926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeregrineBones/pseuds/PeregrineBones
Summary: Three years after Voldemort’s defeat Severus Snape and Remus Lupin are sharing a life together at Spinner’s End with their large and rather complicated family.  Harry and Ginny are about to get married, Draco and Dudley are working out the kinks. All is peaceful in their world, but unbeknownst to them, the Death Eaters are gathering again, looking for a way to claw their way back into power, hoping against hope to bring back the Dark Lord.And Remus is pregnant, again…...
Relationships: Dudley Dursley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Blaise Zabini, Remus Lupin/Severus Snape
Series: Tales of Spinner's End [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963603
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	1. Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my cannon divergent sequel to the Werewolf's Child! There are several original characters from that work that are prominent in this story. Amanda and Gavin are siblings who were rescued from the Death Eaters by Severus and are now living with Remus and Sev as their wards. Their father, Tim, is still alive but unable to take care of them, their mother was killed by Voldemort. Oakley is Remus and Sev's three year old son. He was conceived as part of a magical experiment conducted on Remus when he was imprisoned in a werewolf camp, and adopted by Severus as his own. Oakley is now a lively and curious three year old, Gavin is a rising young Quidditch star and Amanda is having her ups and downs at Hogwarts.
> 
> I think that's what you need to get you started. Hope you enjoy it! And please, please comment! I live for feedback! PB

It was Halloween.

Severus Snape was hurrying up Spinner’s End, in the fading afternoon light. He held a carrier bag from the curry shop in each hand. His black trench coat, which he wore for his forays into the Muggle world, whipped around his legs in the chilly wind. The street of his childhood fairly pulsed with excitement. The neighborhood of dreary brick row houses where he had grown up had been discovered in recent years by an assortment of young families. They were attracted to its Victorian charm, its proximity to London and its affordability. Almost every stoop sported a glowing jack o’lantern, or a string of pumpkin lights, or a plastic ghost blowing eerily in the wind.

Sev’s own house was no exception. Remus and the children had gone a little wild with the decorations. Three carved jack o lanterns marched up the front stairs glowing with candles lit from within. There was a string of pumpkin lights shining in the parlor window. Construction paper cutouts of bats and black cats were taped to the front door. There was a cheap fake spider web from the pound store draped on the front stoop railings. A mummy made of old bog roll tubes wrapped in white cloth and dabbed with fake blood rattled as he opened the door.

He was greeted in the foyer by a tiny batman complete with mask and cape, who hurtled into his stomach as if shot from a cannon.

“Papa! Papa!” Oakley cried, holding up his arms, wanting to be picked up. It was a gesture that Sev had never yet found it within himself to refuse. He set down his carrier bags, and picked up the lithe wriggling three year old body, buried his nose in Oakley’s soft curls, breathed in his clean little boy smell. He felt himself relax. He was home.

A moment later a white figure came flying down the stairs with a loud “Boo!” It was Gavin in his ghost costume “Did I scare you Mr. Sev? “ he wanted to know. “Did I?”

“You are quite frightening, Gavin, in many ways,” said Sev dryly. “Pick up those bags, would you, and bring them into the kitchen.”

“What’s in them?” asked Gavin.

“Dinner,” Sev replied. “Where’s Mr. Moony?”

In the kitchen, Remus was setting the table and filling water glasses. Sev set Oakley down. He took Remus in his arms and kissed him. He let his fingers brush the bump pushing against Remus’ loose robes. Remus smiled and kissed him back.

“Thanks for getting dinner,” he said, taking the carrier bags from Gavin and starting to unpack the white cardboard containers of food. It smelled delicious. “ It's been a day. It's nice not to have to cook. Wash your hands, you two,” he called out to Gavin and Oakley, “and come eat something before you start stuffing yourselves with candy!” He turned to Sev. “Will you take them round for trick or treating?” he asked. “I’m knackered.”

Sev studied Remus’ pale face critically. “Everything all right?” he asked with concern.

Remus smiled at him. “Worry wort!” he said. “I’m fine. Just tired. There were a lot of orders to fill in the greenhouse, and the boys have been a little hyper about Halloween. It would be nice to put my feet up for an hour. That's all.”

Sev looked at him as if he didn’t quite believe him.

“Really,” said Remus. “I’m fine. And the boys will love it if you take them round. You can wear your cloak. You’ll look fantastic. Sit down and eat. How was your day?”

They sat around the kitchen table and ate the delicious curry, as the dusk outside the windows deepened. Then there was a flurry of activity. Sev insisted that the boys wear jumpers under their costumes and they needed to find bags for trick or treating. Sev left Remus fussing with masks and zips and went upstairs to fetch his cloak from the wardrobe. He looked at his face in the mirror. He was pale, as always, his long hair pulled back from his forehead, his dark eyes glittering. And the nose - always the nose, the feature he couldn't get away from, defining his face. He didn’t think he looked too bad though, all things considered. His nose, he felt, fit better on his older face than it had when he was younger.

Remus liked it. Remus liked him. He liked the way he looked. He told him so often. Thinking about this caused a warm glow in Sev’s chest, started a happy tingle washing over his skin.

Sev straightened his collar. He put on his cloak and did up the silver dragon hasp at the neck with a snap. He smoothed his hair. He was ready for Halloween.

Remus had the boys on the front stoop, fully costumed, seated beside the lit pumpkins. He was trying to get them to sit still while he took photos. Then he made Sev pose with them in front of the house. By the time he got the picture he wanted all three of them were squirming with impatience. At last, Remus put the camera away and let them loose into the windy streets.

The boys flew from house to house and soon their bags were bulging. How well Sev remembered the excitement and thrill of trick or treating as a child, the dark streets calling, filled with mystery and adventure. He remembered running through these same streets with Lily and Petunia at the age of nine or ten. Lily’s mum wouldn’t let her go out without her older sister. Lily always dressed as a witch, her red hair swinging under her dark peaked hat, Petunia as a princess. Sev went about in a mask he’d made himself from a paper bag, clutching a pillowcase. There had been no money in the Snape household for costume supplies. Reaching even further back into the mists of memory he could remember an even younger self - a toddler of three or four, thrilled to be out in the wind and the dark, clutching to an adult hand - his father’s or perhaps his grandfather’s.

As they went from house to house he found that he knew a surprising number of people from various school events and neighborhood playgroups. Everyone knew Gavin and Oakley. Several of the other parents had been classmates of his own in primary school, people he’d known since childhood. They had done as he had, held onto their parents’ homes, and were now raising their own children there. The women smiled at him, commented on how the boys were growing. The men shook his hand, greeted him warmly. “It's nice to see a familiar face,” they’d say, “with all these new families moving in.” The fact that he was queer seemed to matter not at all. Somehow, in the years since he had first realized, with a sickening jolt, that he was attracted to men, the world had changed. Now he was just another dad in the neighborhood, an ordinary family man.

Remus would sometimes take offence at a comment by the neighbors that he perceived as insensitive or homophobic. But for Sev, who had grown up in this neighborhood, where ponce was the worst insult one could utter, and being labeled a Nancy boy was equivalent to a death sentence, these small slights seemed trivial, and the reception his family had received seemed nothing short of miraculous.

He lurked on the sidewalk, with the other adults, while the children ran up to the doors and collected their treats. “Did you remember to say thank you?” he admonished, along with his fellow parents, as the boys raced on to the next house. The whole neighborhood was filled with small witches and demons, fairies and superheroes, who flew among the crispy autumn leaves as if buffeted by the wind.

Eventually Oakley grew fussy and Sev picked him up and headed for home, the heavy bags of candy slung over his forearm. Gavin, tired out at last, clung to his hand. Other parents were also herding sleepy, cranky children home, loaded with treats. The candles in the pumpkins on the front stoops had burned out. The jack-o-lantern faces leered, lurid and dark in the shadows. The wind blew harder, and a few drops of cold rain fell. Halloween was over.

*********

Up on the rooftops a white shimmering figure looked down on the street, watched the tall dark man herd the two sleepy children out of the rain and into the house. None of them looked up, none of them noticed him.

It was the ghost of Sirius Black.

The ghost drifted down until he stood in the wet front garden. When he touched the ground he changed into a dog, a large Newfoundland with deep sad eyes. Everything about the dog was big and eager, from the tip of his quivering nose, to his oversized, puppyish paws, to his large sweeping tail. The ghostly dog looked in the windows of the little house. He saw the two men inside cajoling the boys into baths and pajamas, he watched as they put their candy bags on a high shelf, made them brush their teeth. He watched as they all four sat on the parlour sofa while Remus read aloud. The larger boy looked over his shoulder, intent on the story. The younger boy sat in Severus’ lap with his thumb in his mouth. When the children were herded upstairs the dog became a man again. He drifted up onto the rooftop and sat for a long time in the driving rain, not bothered by it at all. At last with a sigh he stood and floated up into the sky and was lost among the clouds.

********

Petunia hated Halloween. When Dudley and Harry had been small she had done what needed to be done, dressed them up and sent them out with bags, stood in the door and handed out candy. But she was done with that now. She and Vernon had never really recovered from the war. Vernon’s job was a thing of the past. She worked as a clerk at the pound shop off the High Street in Little Whinging. They had never got over the fortress mentality they had adopted during that time. They didn’t like to open the door to strangers.

Petunia turned down the lights, and drew the curtains. The few trick or treaters that approached the dark house and knocked on the door of number four Privet Drive were ignored. It was a chilly night, and the wind was picking up. Petunia was tired, and her feet hurt. Vernon was drinking his Blue Sapphire in front of the telly. Petunia pulled back the curtain, and saw the small children, dressed as witches, superheroes, princesses and devils flying about the windy street like leaves. She shuddered, and went to join Vernon in the darkened lounge.

********

When he was younger, Draco Malfoy never would have imagined that he would spend Halloween in this way. He was at a party at number twelve Grimmauld Place, the home of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. It was mostly Gryffindors, naturally, but Draco was used to that by now. Blaise Zabini was there, with Luna Lovegood attached to his arm. A smattering of Ravenclaws. And Dudley, of course.

Draco was bored, and that made him drink too much. He didn’t have much to say to anyone here. He regretted coming. He talked quidditch with Blaise for a while, then stood around and listened while Hermione and Neville argued about post-war politics and the elvish rights campaign.

“It’s not that I don’t agree with you Hermione, I do,” said Neville. “It’s just that people aren’t really ready for the changes you’re proposing. If things move too fast, it’s just going to backfire.”

“How about if it was your family?” replied Hermione hotly. “Your children being denied opportunities, being told they’re second class citizens. You might not be so willing to take it slowly then.”

“Hermione,” Neville argued, a note of pleading in his voice. “I know how these things work. Your campaign is much more likely to succeed if you’re willing to compromise.”

George Weasley was demonstrating the most recent trinkets from his joke shop to an admiring crowd, and the latest versions of Weasley’s Amazing Everlasting Fireworks were wheeling lazily about the room. In another corner Bill Weasley was regaling a rapt group with tales of his adventures as a treasure hunter for Gringotts. His two year old daughter, Victoire, was asleep in his lap, her thumb in her mouth, a trickle of drool on her cheek, detracting, Draco thought, from her otherwise angelic appearance. The impossibly old house elf, Kreacher, was passing around an ancient looking tray, loaded with canapes.

Draco watched Dudley playing exploding snap for a while. Dudley was dressed as a princess in full makeup, blond wig, bright blue silky blouse and a white taffeta skirt. Dudley was incredible in drag - large and proud, sexy and beautiful. He was having fun. He liked being at wizarding gatherings. He still got a kick out of being around magic. Honestly, Draco thought as he sipped his lager, watching Dudley was the most entertaining option available.

At last Draco escaped to the loo.

He found himself in line behind Hermione. She turned round and grinned at him, a bit drunkenly he thought.

“Hello Granger,” he said stiffly.

“Draco,” she said. “How are you tonight?” She was definitely drunk, but then, so was he.

“Fine,” he said, warily. He had got used to a lot of things, but chatting with Hermione still put him on edge.

“How’re you and Dudley doing?” she asked conversationally. Draco felt the color rise to his cheeks, instantly. Damn! Damn! Damn!

“Wow, you really like him,” she said.

“Well, obviously.”

“I mean, I knew you liked him, but I guess I didn't realize it was so…. Passionate.”

“Shut up, Granger.”

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s…….embarrassing.”

“Actually….It’s …...good.”

“I guess,” said Draco. “When it isn’t horribly embarrassing.”

“He looks beautiful tonight.”

“I know.”

“I wish I felt that way about Ron.”

“Don’t you?” said Draco.

Hermione just shook her head and looked out the window.

Draco didn’t know what to say. The awkward silence sat between them, like a stone. At last the door opened, and Seamus Finnegan emerged. He gave Hermione a comradely cuff on the shoulder, shot a dark look at Draco and disappeared into the crowd. Hermione escaped into the bathroom.

When Hermione was done, Draco went into the white tiled room and pissed. Then he stood and studied himself in the scratched and spotted mirror over the old fashioned ceramic wall sink. He was dressed as a vampire, and it suited him. He’d powdered his pale face to make it paler. He was wearing fangs, and a dramatic Dracula cape with a high ruff. His head felt heavy and he was mildly nauseous. He really just wanted to grab Dudley and go home.

After the loo he ran into Harry in the back hall. Harry was carrying several bottles of nettle wine out from the kitchen.

“Hey Draco,” said Harry, conversationally. “Nice costume.” Harry was dressed in skeleton pyjamas, a Day of the Dead mask hanging from a string around his neck. It was a good mask, but as he wasn’t wearing it properly, the effect was ruined.

“Good party,” replied Draco

“Glad you could make it,” said Harry. “How's ...work and everything?”

Draco shrugged noncommittally. He didn’t want to talk about his job at Gringott's, which he hated.

“How are the wedding plans going?” Draco asked in an attempt to change the subject. Harry and Ginny had announced their intention to get married a few weeks ago.

Harry grinned. “All right,” he said. “Listen Draco. I....I want to ask you something. Ron’s my best man, that’s obvious but I…..I want you to be in the wedding party. You and Dudley. I want you to stand up with me. Dudley’s my cousin, he should be there and.....you're his partner. I want you there as well.”

Draco looked at Harry. He didn’t know how to respond. They weren’t friends, exactly. More like allies. During the war, fighting on the same side, they had developed a mutual respect. And they shared a connection to Spinner’s End, a place that had become a home of sorts to both of them after the war. And Harry was Dudley’s cousin, of course.

Draco was pleased, but he didn’t want to show it. Not too much. “Of course, Potter,” he said, perhaps a bit too formally, but oh well. Potter was used to him, by now, or he should be. He held out his hand , and there was a bit of awkwardness while Harry transferred the wine bottles to the other hand and they shook. “Who’s going to give you away?”

Harry grinned at him then. “Lupin and Snape,” he replied. “Who else?”

********

Narcissa Malfoy stood on a balcony overlooking the sea. The wind blew ragged clouds across the gibbous moon. The moonlight reflected off the sea, shiny and silvery, but Narcissa did not see the beauty. Her thoughts were far away as she stood in the chilly wind. She looked across the sea, from the balcony of this stone castle on the coast of Spain where she and Lucius were in hiding. She wondered about her son and she wondered about her sisters. She thought of all the mistakes she had made, all the wrong turns she had taken, to land her in this cold and lonely place. Just as she was about to turn back inside, she heard a soft movement and Lucius was behind her. He reached out and put his arms around her. She smelled the whiskey on his breath.

“Don’t be sad, my love,” he whispered in her ear.

“I miss Draco,” she confessed. For a moment her eyes burned with tears but she tamped them back.

“Someday, my love,” Lucius whispered in her ear. “Someday we will return. We will return in glory. Our son will see the error of his ways, and he shall be restored to us.” He kissed the back of her neck.

Narcissa shuddered. She didn’t argue with her husband when he was in this mood, but it was not the reunion she pictured. She drew her cloak closer around herself and they went inside.

*********

Amanda was running, climbing as fast as she could up the stony steps. Her breath was coming fast, there was a stitch in her side but she did not stop until she stood at the top of the Astronomy Tower, high above Hogwarts. Here at last, where no one could see her, she let her hot tears flow. She cried in gulping, ugly sobs, glad to be away, where none of her fellow students could hear her. She cried for a long time. At last her tears were spent. She stood in the chilly wind, looking out at the rain lashed grounds. Her costume, a gauzy fairy getup offered no warmth. Her wings, made of wire and crepe paper, were bent at a funny angle. Her glittery eye make up was running down her face.

The Halloween Ball had been a complete disaster. She had thought she had friends. She had thought they cared about her. But apparently, she had been wrong. She thought of running away. She could sneak down to the quidditch pitch, steal a broom, fly over the mountains through the dark night, back to Spinner’s End, to Mr. Moony and Mr. Sev, where they cared about her, where she knew she was loved. Like a real Halloween witch, she thought as she pictured flying through the cloudy sky.

But she knew Mr. Moony and Mr. Sev would want her to stick it out. They’d both been through so much worse. She’d been through so much worse herself. She’d seen her mother and her step father murdered right in front of her. She’d been captured by Voldemort himself, terrorized and very nearly killed. She’d fled her home in the night to escape the Death Eaters and turned back to see it burning.

There was a crumpled piece of parchment in her hand. She unfolded it and looked at it once again. It was a crudely drawn picture of herself, exaggerating all her worst features. The artist had been quite talented and quite cruel. Her eyes looked tiny in a round face, her cheeks and lips huge, her freckles stood out as ugly black marks. Her tendency to chubbiness was exaggerated to obesity, rolls of fat squeezing around the fairy costume, making it look utterly obscene. _Amanda the Panda_ said the words at the bottom in a jagged scrawl. She’d found it being passed around among her supposed friends.

Amanda stood at the top of the astronomy tower and started shredding that drawing - tearing it into smaller and smaller bits until at last the tiny pieces of parchment flew out of her fingers and scattered across the wet grounds, like snow.

**********

Andromeda sat by her fireside late into the night. She started out drinking tea, but eventually switched to firewhiskey. She drew her shawl tight around her, staring at the flames. This cottage where she had made her life with Ted had once rung with laughter and hope. Small footsteps had pattered on the floorboards, a young girl had grown into womanhood, the table in the dining room had been alive with chatter as her small family had shared many happy meals together. All that was gone now. Ted was dead, killed by the Death Eaters. Dora was dead, killed heroically in the battle of Hogwarts. Andromeda was left alone in a sad and empty house.

She stared at the flames, listened to the wind rattling in the eaves. At last, with a sigh, she picked up a quill and a piece of parchment and started a letter.

“Dear Narcissa,” she began. Her old eagle owl, Pandora, watched her with a cocked head, an intelligent yellow eye. At last the letter was done. Andromeda read it over, considered for a long moment. She rolled it up and tied it to Pandora’s leg. She carried the regal bird to the window, whispered in her ear, and set her free into the stormy night.

*********

The Albanian woods were cold and dark. Here it was not raining, and a half moon rode high in a clear, star spangled sky. A cold wind blew. A rat and a snake made their way together, across a clearing and into the thick shadows of the forest beyond. The rat climbed a tree and peered out over the landscape with dark beady eyes. The snake slithered over the ground, tasting the air insistently with its tongue.

The rat scampered down from the tree. He and the snake moved together over the cold ground, slow, deliberate.

They seemed to be looking for something.


	2. Halloween Part Two

It took a long time to get the boys settled down. The nightly routines of baths, bed and tucking in felt tedious. Oakley and Gavin were simultaneously overtired and jacked up on sugar. At last, both children settled, Sev went to the room he shared with Remus. He changed out of his clothes into loose fitting pajamas and a dressing gown. He stood at the window and looked down on the street. A few hours ago it had been alive with children running about in their costumes. Now it was deserted. The storm was picking up. Wind lashed the branches of the trees in the small yard below, and splattered rain against the window. The cobbles on the street shone wetly under the streetlights. The deserted factory loomed in the background.

Remus came in and handed him a glass of firewhiskey. He drank deeply, gratefully. Remus put his arms around him from behind and Sev was so thankful for his warmth.

“It’s twenty years ago tonight,” Sev said at last. “Twenty years ago that they died.”

His choice of pronoun was important. The use of the third person plural was a huge concession - an acknowledgement that James had been Remus’ friend, and not just Sev’s rival and worst enemy.

Remus, with his arms around Sev, pulled him closer “I know,” he said gently. “I’ve been thinking about them all day.”

“If I hadn’t…… “ Sev said, his voice breaking, “Maybe.…. Maybe she’d still be alive.”

“Maybe,” said Remus. “We can’t know…..what might have happened.”

“And.....and James too.”

“Or if James hadn’t been a fool and trusted Peter. There are a million ifs, Sev, there always will be. You can’t change the past.”

“I’ve thought about it.”

“No. You know you can’t. Not without dire consequences.” He let go of Sev and stood beside him, looking down at the rain lashed street. He took the glass of firewhiskey from Sev, took a small sip, and handed it back to him.

“I know the darkness, Sev,” Remus said at last. “I’ve been there too.”

Of course he had. Remus, so even tempered and cheerful, Sev forgot, sometimes, that he had suffered tremendous losses. Worse, in many ways, than Sev’s own had been.

“How do you stand it?” Sev asked him now.

“I handle it differently than you do, that’s all.”

“And you have a clean conscience.”

Remus sighed. “I love you,” he said.

“I don’t see how you can.”

“But I do. Look, you did what you did based on who you were at that moment in time. You’re not the same person you were then. You’ve grown. I love the person you are now. You can’t define your life by one mistake.”

“It’s more than one mistake, Remus.”

“Maybe twenty years is time, Sev,” Remus said.

“Time for what?”

“Time to.....forgive yourself?”

“Could you forgive yourself? If you were me?”

“I…. I don’t know,” said Remus and he turned to take Sev in his arms once again. Sev buried his face in Remus’ neck.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” Sev said, drinking in the smell of Remus, the warmth of his skin.

“It’s just that … no I’m being selfish,” said Remus.

“What?”

“It's just.…. Every time you go down that rabbit hole of despair. Well…..it's hard on me, hard on the kids.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I need you Sev. They need you. And when you are lost in remorse…… well, then you are truly gone from us.”

“So what do I do?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Remus looked up at him, and stroked his cheek. The bump was pressed between them and with a shiver like a fish, the baby turned. Remus smiled.

“It’s only that you love me. That’s the only reason I can go on,” Sev said.

Remus reached up to kiss him.The baby moved again, pressed between them, and Sev put his hand on the bump. Remus kissed him again. “Come to bed,” he said.

“There must be some good in me,” Sev said. “If you can love me.”

“You are the bravest person I know,” said Remus. 

And Sev let himself be pulled down to bed, let himself be held by Remus and kissed by Remus. They kissed for a long time and it was enough, just that, Remus, lying beside him, his arms around him, his mouth, his lips, his tongue. Sev was lost in the sweetness of it. At last, Remus got up to piss.

When he got back a black panther was lying across the bed, large and majestic. When Remus entered the room he started purring, waving his thick heavy tail from side to side.

Remus sighed. He wasn’t too surprised at this turn of events. He lay down with his head on the large beast’s belly, where the fur turned white and feathery. He felt the deep contented rumble of Shadow’s purr. He turned and scratched him behind the ears, stroked the thick plush of his neck.

Shadow‘s tongue flicked out, and he licked Remus’ cheek. His pink tongue was surprisingly soft. He closed his yellow eyes. The purring grew louder. Remus pulled the quilt up over the two of them, and turned out the light with a flick of his wand.

“G’night Shadow,” he sighed. He snuggled into the comforting warmth of the large cat, and soon he was asleep, with Shadow’s heavy paw resting on the bump.

*******

When the Halloween party started winding down, Draco and Dudley took the floo from Harry’s house on Grimmauld Place to their flat in Cokeworth. They could have found a place in London, but Dudley’s job was in Little Whinging, and he didn’t want to be too far from his parents, who were not in the best of health. Draco liked being near Spinner’s End- he often went round for dinner, or to throw the quaffle with the children, or to babysit on nights when the moon was full, and Snape and Lupin were running in the woods. He went to Gavin’s games when he could, watching his progress on the quidditch pitch with the avid eye of a parent. Cokeworth was more affordable than London, anyway, and they had a largish second floor flat in one of the old Victorian houses in the shadow of the cathedral, in a neighborhood that had once been rich. They had three bedrooms (one set up as an office, another as a home gym) and access to a shady back garden. Draco took the floo to his job at Gringotts.

As soon as they arrived home, Draco took Dudley in his arms. He wanted him, badly. He wanted him to know and he himself wanted to feel it - the heights they could get to, the depth of what they shared. Seeing the hollow look in Hermione’s eyes when she had talked about Ron had galvanized him.

He wasn’t sure what he thought of Dudley in his princess get up, but his body knew. As always, when things got physical between them, his body was drawn to Dudley’s with a force like a gravitational pull. He kissed Dudley’s lipsticked lips, pouty and more full than ever, kissed the rogue on his cheeks, thrilling at the sandpaper scrape of stubble beneath the makeup. He shoved Dudley against the wall and flipped up his frilly gauze skirt, found Dudley’s big hard cock underneath. Draco got down on his knees and set to work with his mouth, licking and sucking Dudley as if he were a huge, delicious ice lolly. Dudley groaned appreciatively, but after a few minutes he pushed Draco’s head back.

“C’mon,” Dudley said hoarsely. He took Draco by the hand and dragged him to their bedroom. He pushed Draco down on the bed, roughly, found the lube and reached under the black robes of Draco’s vampire costume, unzipped his jeans. He pulled out Draco’s penis and lubed him. Draco closed his eyes and leaned back into pure unfettered pleasure as Dudley stroked him and made him so, so hard.

“C’mon,” Dudley whispered again, and Draco knew what he wanted - of course he did. He knew Dudley’s rhythms and tastes. His moods - his needs. He opened his eyes and wrestled Dudley over. They tustled for a few minutes, breathlessly, and Draco felt the power in Dudley’s body, pushed against it. It wasn’t exactly a contest of strength. Draco was wiry and fit, but he didn’t really have a chance against Dudley, who was heavier than him by at least two stone, and a trained wrestler besides. It was more a form of foreplay, a chance for them to get their blood up, to get a measure of the other’s weight and mood, to tune into the other’s body. After a few minutes Draco got Dudley where he wanted him, belly down, spread eagled, ready. They were both breathing hard. Draco shoved up the white taffeta skirt again, and pulled down Dudley's black boxers. Dudley kicked them off impatiently. Draco got up on his knees and took a few moments to worship Dudley’s perfect, round, arse, full and firm beneath his hands.

“Mine,” he whispered, biting the back of Dudley’s neck. He took Dudley’s big beautiful cock in his fist and shoved in. He heard the white satin of the princess costume rip as Dudley wriggled to take more of him in. He gave himself over to the rise and fall of their bodies, Dudley panting and groaning beneath him, building slowly, until Dudley gave a great roar, and started to shudder beneath him. Draco drove in, harder and harder, as the waves of his own climax overtook him, and then they lay spent, in that timeless place after orgasm where they were melded together, and everything just was.

At last Dudley stirred beneath him and Draco rolled off of him and smiled. Both their faces were smeared with lipstick.

“I think I ripped your dress,” said Draco.

Dudley shook his head and laughed. “What did you take at that party?” he asked. “You were....wild.”

“Just wanted to show you,” said Draco, and he felt self conscious, suddenly.

“Show me what?”

“What you mean to me. What we…...have.”

“I know what we have,” said Dudley quietly.

Draco rolled over onto his back and lit a cigarette and inhaled. He handed it to Dudley. “I was talking to Granger tonight,” he said, looking up at the ceiling.

“Hermione?” said Dudley. “What did she have to say?”

“Nothing. It's just … well, she was talking about Ron… and…..she just seemed so sad. I…. not everybody gets this.”

“Yeah,” said Dudley. He dragged on the cigarette, handed it back to Draco and kissed him on the cheek. “I know. Look at Mum and Dad.”

“You don’t think they were ever - young and passionate?”

“Nah,” said Dudley matter of factly. “Not really. I think they looked at each other and figured they were the best either of them was gonna do. That was part of the reason she was so jealous of her sister, my aunt Lily, yeah? Lily married the man of her dreams. Mum just settled.”

Draco smoked his cigarette thoughtfully.

“What about your parents, then?” asked Dudley.

Draco thought about his parents, Lucius and Narcissa. Had they ever seemed fond of each other? Had he ever seen them touch? Laugh together? He couldn’t remember. He remembered the coldness at the center of his childhood.

“I think Mother and Father knew they were supposed to get married from an early age,” he said slowly. “It was an obvious match, and both their families wanted it. I don’t think they felt they had much choice in the matter. Family and blood was the whole point. Happiness had nothing to do with it.”

“Do you miss them?” asked Dudley cautiously. Draco’s parents were a sore subject.

“I miss Mother,” Draco said, decisively. “I’d like her to see that my life is…. All right. More than all right,” he corrected. “Good.”

“And your dad?”

“I never want to see him again.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments and smoked. At last Dudley got up. He took off his torn taffeta dress and threw it in the bin in the corner, removed his wig. He went naked to the bathroom, pissed and washed the make up off his face, brushed his teeth. He got back into bed with a contented sigh, reached over Draco to turn out the bedside lamp and took him in his arms.

“It's funny about Granger,” Draco said into the darkness. “I always hated her, you know, from the moment I met her on the train to Hogwarts our first year. I knew she was smarter and more powerful than me, even though she was Muggle born. I hated the fact that she was at Hogwarts. And I hated Dumbledore for running things so that she could get accepted in the first place. And then, well, after I ran away, I hated her because it seemed she had been on the right side of things all along. She had made all the right choices, and I had made all the wrong ones, and I thought I would never live it down.”

Outside it was starting to rain. The wind rattled the casement, and a few drops spattered against the glass. Dudley snuggled into the warmth of Draco, pulled him closer against him.

“You did all right in the war,” said Dudley sleepily. “You’re a hero, remember?”

“You too,” said Draco and squeezed his hand. “But…it's just odd, you know, to feel I have something…. I did something right, for once and ….. Well, she’s miserable, and we have…. This.”

“This?”

“This.....love.”

That made Dudley smile in the darkness, and that made Draco turn to kiss him, and then they kissed for a long time.

“Mmmmm,” said Dudley at last. He was falling asleep, Draco could tell, his arms growing heavy, his breathing deepening. Draco thought of his mother, who he missed every day. He wondered where she was tonight, if she was thinking of him as well. He hated to think of her, out there, hiding, afraid, still under the control of his father. But there was nothing he could do - no way to help her, no way to even know where she was.

Draco sighed and snuggled into the warmth of Dudley’s generous frame. Dudley instinctively tightened his arms around him. He would think about it all tomorrow, and soon he was asleep.

Outside the storm began to pick up, the wind gusted, the rain became more persistent. November had arrived. Inside Draco and Dudley, satiated and content, slept on.

********

Rodolphus Lestrange walked around the grounds, sniffing the air, getting the feeling of the evening, as was his habit. He had always operated largely on instinct. The Night Circus was a large venue, with many tents, holding many wonders. It was such a large and complex operation that Rodolphus, who had emptied his vault of a good deal of gold to acquire it, still wasn’t sure that he had seen it all.

The circus had set up on a bluff outside the Albanian city of Durres, overlooking the Adriatic Sea. It was a cool fall evening, pleasant, not yet cold. The air was filled with the smell of caramel popcorn. After his nightly walk, Rodolphus retired to his office, which occupied a tent all its own, between the dancing bears and the aerialists. Rodolphus sat at his desk and worked on the accounts, listening to the contented murmur of the crowds as they strolled about, enjoying the many wonders of the circus around them.

Rodolphus liked keeping the books. It calmed him, and focused his mind. He tended to lose himself in the numbers which was not a bad thing. People came and went from his office tent, with various requests and minor crises which he dealt with with chill efficiency. Then, tugging at his beard, he went back to his books.

In the deepest, darkest part of the night, when the revelers were starting to thin out and even the most devoted followers of the circus were starting to think of their warm beds, he heard a faint rustling sound. He looked up.

A large rat sat on its haunches, sniffing the air, its pink nose trembling, its paws held together in a gesture of supplication. Beside him a poison green snake was curled, a mamba, its scales shimmering in the lamplight. Rodolphus smiled. His teeth were very yellow in the low light, his black eyes glittered.

“Hello, love,” he said, addressing the green mamba.

He stood and held out an arm. The heavy snake hissed softly. It uncoiled itself gracefully and glided over to Rodolphus. He lowered his arm and the snake slithered up it. She coiled around his arm, behind his neck and raised her head. She looked at him, out of a glittering gold eye, and hissed.

“Bella,” said Rodolphus. “I’ve missed you.” The snake flicked its blue forked tongue, lightly touching Rodolphus on the nose.

The rat, still on its haunches, clicked its teeth and made a soft chittering sound.


	3. November the First

Sev stayed a panther all night long, but in the morning, he was human again. Remus was relieved, glad he would not have to explain to the children that Mr. Sev was just feeling sad, and needed some time to think, and that he would be himself again soon. Remus woke to find Sev showered and dressed for work, in his purple healer’s robes, standing by the bed with a cup of coffee in his hand. Remus stirred sleepily and sat up in bed. He took the steaming mug from Sev and cupped his hands around its warmth. He took a sip. It was delicious - cream and a pinch of cinnamon, just the way he liked it

“Feeling better?” Remus asked.

Sev gave a wry smile. “Sorry about all that,” he said. He brushed Remus' hair back from his forehead, kissed his cheek. “I am a little better, I think.”

Oakley stood in their doorway, in his quidditch footy pajamas. He stretched his thin arms above his head. “I waked up,” he announced, yawning. Remus watched from the bed as Sev went over and picked Oakley up. He buried his face in his soft curls, breathed in deeply and carried him over to the bed. He tucked him in next to Remus. Oakley wriggled under the covers, snuggling against Remus’ warmth.

“I’m a bedbug,” Oakley announced. “Grrr.”

“I don’t think bed bugs go Grr,” said Remus.

“I’m going to bite you,” said Oakley, and pinched Remus’ leg.

“I think bed bugs like to tickle,” said Remus, feeling under Oakley’s PJs for his soft belly. Oakley giggled.

“Mustn’t be late for work,” said Sev. He kissed Remus goodbye and headed over to the fireplace in their room.

“Don’t forget our appointment tomorrow,” said Remus.

“I haven’t,” said Sev. “I’ll let them know I’m leaving early.” He took a pinch of powder from the box on the mantel. Green fire flamed in the grate. “St. Mungo’s,” said Sev, and he was gone through the floo.

Remus looked into Oakley’s brown eyes, so like his own. “Time to get Gavin up for school,” he said. He reached for his coffee and took a sip of the warm brew.

“No,” said Oakley with a pout. “ I wanna stay here and be bed bugs!”

“All right,” said Remus, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. “For a few minutes. Bed bugs are coming to get you!” He tickled Oakley again, and the little boy shrieked with delight.

*******

  
Draco sat at his desk at Gringotts . He was bored. An abacus sat on the desk before him, in front of a long piece of parchment, covered with sums. He was balancing accounts, a slow and painstaking procedure. He tried to focus, but his mind continued to wander. He was a bit hungover from the party the night before. He took a sip of his coffee, but it wasn’t really helping.

He looked up at the high vaulted windows above him, covered with a gridwork of small panes of glass. Gringotts was a beautiful building with its marble floors, classical columns and heavy oak counters. The ceiling was comprised of a complex interlocking series of domes. Who had designed this building, Draco wondered, and how had they come up with their ideas?

In a small corner of his accounting sheet, he drew a sketch of the complex ceiling, the soaring arched windows. His brow furrowed in concentration, a small smile played over his lips, as he lost himself in his drawing.

*******

The day after Halloween was always a quiet sort of day, Gavin thought, a bit of a let down, after all the anticipation leading up to the big night. The rain had stopped, but it was grey, damp, and blowy outside. Christmas was still very far away, and there was nothing really to look forward to between now and then. School seemed more long and tedious than usual. Gavin had been up late the night before, and as the teacher explained about fractions and how to multiply them, he felt his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. The pull of the desk on his head was almost irresistible. He glanced at the clock on the wall - how could it be moving so slowly? He looked out the window at the grey sky. The trees were nearly bare, black skeletons, with just a few ragged leaves clinging to them, blowing in the wind. He pinched himself to try to stay awake, wiggled his toes. He picked up his pencil and doodled in the margins of his paper. He had got in trouble for this before, but it was better than falling asleep wasn’t it? Around him he heard the rustling and fidgeting of his classmates. He wasn’t the only one who was bored and restless.

At last the bell rang, and Gavin was released to the freedom of football practice, which he loved. For a blessed hour it was just him, and the ball, and the cool damp air. After practice he walked home through the darkening streets. He was thinking of Mr. Sev, and how he had gone to the same school when he was a boy, and walked home through these same streets.

Gavin had three dads. Gavin knew several kids at his school that had two dads or two mums, but he didn’t know anyone who had three (four, actually, if you counted his step dad, who had died, along with his Mum, killed by Death Eaters nearly four years ago now).

His real father, Tim lived in his flat in Cheapside unless he was in rehab, and Gav and Amanda stayed with him the first weekend of every month, unless he was in rehab, in which case they didn’t. It was the same arrangement they’d had when his Mum had been alive, and it seemed to suit everyone fine. The rest of the time he lived with Mr. Sev and Mr. Moony, and even though he didn’t call them Dad they acted like dads, dragging him out of bed every morning and making him go to school, making him shower and do homework and eat vegetables, standing on the sidelines of his soccer games and quidditch matches in all weather, good and bad. On his birthday thery bought him presents and wrapped them in colored paper,and although some of the packages said, _With Love From Daddy Tim,_ Gavin knew that the presents had been purchased by Mr. Sev and Mr. Moony. Which, again, was similar to the way things had been arranged when his Mum had been alive.

He knew this all bothered Amanda more than it bothered him, which made sense as she was older, plus a girl. She remembered when their Dad had lived with them, and bought their birthday presents himself, and took them to the playpark. Gavin had just been a baby then. By the time he had been old enough to remember anything, those happy times were over. He remembered the rows, every day, until by the time his Dad had moved out and got a flat of his own they had all been relieved.

He missed his Mum sometimes, but he tried not to think about her, because it made him sad, and gave him a tight feeling in his chest which he hated. He dreamed about her every now and then, her smile, her voice, her soft brown hair. He dreamed about her singing to him, holding him close, but when he woke up from these dreams he tried to forget them.

Then there were the bad things, which he also tried not to think about, although they too crept into his dreams. The men in masks, coming with wands, his mother slumped against the wall, her eyes staring glassily at nothing. Rough hands grabbing him, a rope about his wrists. Being hung upside down, on the ceiling of a strange, richly appointed house with the snake face man staring up at him, his wand pointing, spinning him and Amanda around in lazy circles, talking about who would be the one to kill them.

Then there had been the explosion, the green smoke filling the room, the bad smell. And then they were down off the ceiling, and Mr. Sev had been there. Gavin still remembered his white hands pushing them into the fireplace, the flames turning green around them, Mr. Sev’s hoarse voice whispering, _“Spinner's End.”_ Then there had been Mr. Moony, and a warm bath, and hot cocoa, and everything had been all right after that.

Gavin loved playing soccer and quidditch, because on the pitch his mind was quiet, focussed on the ball, on the other players, and that was all. For the same reason, he loved watching football with Mr. Sev or his Dad. He was trying to teach Oakley how to play, but he was still too little to do much more than run around yelling after the ball, until he fell down and hurt himself and went running inside to Mr. Moony.

When Gavin wasn’t occupied with sports he drew, endlessly, drawings of dragons and monsters, masked heroes who flew aeroplanes and rode rocketships and fought evil villains, also masked, that were out to destroy the world. Mr. Moony kept him supplied with drawing pads and felt tipped pens and Gavin knew he was paying attention and that made him feel better about everything.

When Gavin got home the house was quiet. Mr. Sev was still at work, Mr. Moony and Oakley must be out in the greenhouse. The lights were on out there, glowing brightly against the autumn gloom. There was something cooking in the oven, and it smelled wonderful. He dropped his soccer cleats by the backdoor, in the jumble of shoes and boots that lived there. He peeked in the oven. It was bubble and squeak, one of his favorites. He retrieved his Halloween bag from the high cupboard where Mr. Moony had placed it last night, climbed the two flights of stairs to his attic bedroom. There in his bed, he sorted through his candy. He found a mint aero and unwrapped it, happy as the warm chocolatey taste spread over his tongue. He got out his sketchpad, and started to draw.

********

Amanda had luckily been placed in Ravenclaw. She didn’t know what she would have done if she had landed in Slytherin or Gryffindor. She would have felt terrible, as if she were choosing Mr. Moony or Mr. Sev, and she had no interest in Hufflepuff. But being in Ravenclaw had proven difficult in various ways. Ravenclaw, Amanda quickly learned, was the least forgiving house, the least tolerant of mistakes or slowness.

Mr. Moony, in a certain mood, liked to regale them with the story of his first train ride to Hogwarts, how he had met his friends, riding in the same carriage. They were all slated for different houses. Remus had expected to be placed in Ravenclaw, Sirius in Slytherin and Peter in Hufflepuff, but they had somehow ended up in Gryffindor and that was that - they had christened themselves the Marauders on their very first night in the dorm. And of course Harry had sat with Ron on his first train ride - instant best mates for life.

Well, it hadn’t been like that for Amanda. She had suffered through that first train ride on the Hogwarts Express, miserably shy and alone, surrounded by happy chatter as people met and bonded. In her dorm, she had listened to the endless talk, week after week, month after month while the other girls giggled and gossiped. She had felt invisible, always on the edge of things. No one had asked her opinion, no one had shared their packets of sweets from home or passed her a note during class.

She had finally clawed her way into a group of the least popular girls in her year, only to find them making fun of her behind her back. The day after Halloween she didn't want to get out of bed. She skipped breakfast, then dragged herself through transfiguration and herbology. She sat alone, keeping herself apart from her friends who had been so heartless. They didn’t seem to notice her aloofness.

At lunch, too famished to resist food any longer, she grabbed a couple of scones from the nearest table, and retreated to her room, high in the Ravenclaw tower, where she pulled the blue curtains around her four poster bed and ate under the covers. She would not cry, she told herself fiercely, not again, but she felt the hot tears starting to burn her eyes nonetheless.

In the grey November afternoon she suffered through double potions, sitting in the back of the room, wondering if she would always be alone. As soon as class ended she raced to the dining hall, hoping to grab some food which she could again eat alone in her room. But dinner was stew, not exactly conducive to sneaking out of the dining hall, and her stomach rumbled ferociously at the smell. All she had eaten all day were a couple of scones. She sat at the end of the Ravenclaw table, grabbed a bowl of stew, and ate quickly, her head down. Her ex friends were laughing and gossiping loudly a few seats down from her and didn't pay any attention to her at all.

As soon as she had finished she got up quickly. The enchanted ceiling showed a dark overcast night, with lowering clouds. She left the Great Hall as quickly as she could. Her face felt hot and her stupid eyes were starting to burn again. She hurried through the deserted corridors to the Ravenclaw tower.

She saw them at the end of the hallway, just where the passage sloped down to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. Three boys, older, sixth years maybe or seventh, thin and wiry in their black robes and peaked hats. Amanda tried to slip by them.

“We’ll start at midnight, yeah?” said the tallest boy, in a low voice.

“Yeah,” said another one, with a straight blond fall of hair across his forehead. “We’ll meet in the supply closet, beside the potions classroom.”

“Do the others know about it?” asked the tallest boy.

“Should do, yeah,” said the blond boy. “I got the word around.”

“Any idea how many are actually coming?” said the third boy. He had a very pale face with spots, and light blue eyes.

The blond boy shrugged. “We’ll just have to wait and see,” he said.

“Hey!” said the pale boy, noticing Amanda. “You!”

Amanda froze.

“You spying on us?” asked the blond boy, with a nasty look on his face.

“No… I…. I was just trying to get to my dorm,” Amanda squeaked.

The tallest boy looked her over. “What’s your name, girl?” he asked.

“I’m…. Amanda.”

“Your surname,” he snarled.

“McAllen,” she said. Her throat was so dry she could hardly get it out. “Amanda McAllen.”

He looked her over, and his eyes were cold and hard. “Don’t you live with Severus Snape?” He asked. “Aren’t you some kind of ward of his?”

Amanda nodded, unable to speak.

“Well,” said the tall boy. “You give Mr. Severus Snape a message from us, will you?”

Amanda stood stock still. Her face was flaming and her ears were buzzing and she did not know how to respond.

“Tell him,” said the tall boy. “Tell him….That he’s a traitor and a liar and that some of us, those of us that are true Slytherins know it! Will you tell him that for us?” And the three boys guffawed.

“Tell him,'' said the boy, his eyes narrowing to menacing slits, “Tell him that his days in the sun are numbered. Tell him…...that true Slytherins don’t forget someone who has betrayed them.”

“Yeah,” added the blond boy. “And tell him - that Harry Potter he’s grown so fond of? Tell him he was a shite quidditch player!”

The three boys erupted in malicious laughter, and Amanda fled.


	4. Gender Reveal

The potions department in the basement of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was a busy place. Orders for potions arrived in a steady stream, carried by St Mungo's very clean and efficient band of messenger hamsters, who wore little white vests with the St Mungo's healer's emblem blazed across their backs. The hamsters traveled through a network of tubes. They delivered the orders for potions from the healers and placed them on a large metal spike at the center of the potioneers workspace, and carried the completed potions back up to the wards and clinics where they were administered to the patients. The most commonly used portions (Pepper Up, Skele-Gro, Vitamix and Draught for Dreamless Sleep) were kept in large vats in the center of the room, with purple fires underneath to keep them bubbling at a low temperature. These potions could be ladled out into small bottles as needed. More specialized potions were brewed by individual potioneers at their benches. For extremely hard or difficult to manage cases, the potioneers would meet in conference with the healers to try to figure out a treatment.

Sev kept his head down and did his work. He was relieved every day, to have a job that involved simply the brewing of potions, something he happened to be very good at, without all the hassle and drama involved in teaching a bunch of ungrateful teenagers. His fellow potioneers had initially given him wide berth. Everyone knew who he was, obviously. His reputation as a former Death Eater, and the right hand man of Voldemort, went before him. Many people working in the potions department were his former students, and Sev cringed at the thought of how he had terrorized them. But gradually, as with all things, they got used to him. Gradually, he got called in to confer on the more difficult or challenging cases, and he was often able to offer a solution, or at least an idea of something to try.

He had a few photos spellotaped over his workbench; One of the children - Amanda, Gavin and Oakley, taken at the shore on a summer holiday, their innocent faces smiling at the camera, bathed in summer sunlight, the wind fluffing their hair. Another one of Remus, taken on that same holiday. He’s not facing the camera, he's in profile, staring out to sea. He looks lean and strong - not young - you can see the weight of the years on him - but determined and proud. Sev loved that photo.

Sev had a busy morning, filling custom orders. When lunchtime came, he went to get a fresh cup of tea to go with the lunch Remus had packed for him. The St. Mungo’s Hospital Tea Shop had been done over about forty years ago, and it had a 1950s vibe - white formica counters, cracked green vinyl seats, fake chandeliers glaring from the ceiling. There were cases of sandwiches, a rotating cake stand, encased in glass and garishly lit from within. A bowl of apples that no one ever bought shone waxy and poisonous looking on the counter. There was a huge silver samovar in pride of place next to the ornate brass cash register. Healers needed a lot of strong tea to get through their days.

Sev arrived in the middle of the lunch rush. He checked his pocket watch impatiently as he stood in line. It was an elaborate wizarding one that Remus had got him for Christmas the year before. It told the time, the date, the weather and the phases of the moon and planets. It had a hand for each member of the family, showing their whereabouts, and their general level of threat, as well as a meter that registered the concentration of magical energy in the atmosphere.

Sev payed for his tea, and was turning to go back to his lab, when he found himself face to face with Minerva Mcgonagall, who was in line behind him.

“Minerva,” said Sev.

“Severus,” she replied somewhat stiffly. She looked as if she had been caught out.

“Everything all right?” Sev asked, looking her over with concern. Was she ill?

“Fine, Severus. Don’t be alarmed. I’m right as rain. Just here for routine medical care.“

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Sev, not sure if he believed her. He had never known Minerva to be ill. Why would she need routine medical care? “Let me buy you a cup of tea,” he offered.

Minerva ordered tea and ginger newts and they found a table at the back of the busy shop.

“How is the job going here?” she asked, in her brisk way, once they were settled. There was a low background hum of chatter and clinking cutlery, that gave their conversation a private feeling.

“I…. fine,” Sev said, feeling self conscious under her penetrating eye.

“You like it then?”

“I do.”

“No chance I could persuade you to come back to Hogwarts, I suppose.”

“Hogwarts?“ said Sev stupidly.

Minerva’s look was very focused. “I could use you,” she said.

“Minerva….I ….. I’ve left all that behind.”

“Slytherin house could use….. Some leadership.”

“Leadership?”

“Some students are engaging in activities that I am concerned about.”

“Concerned how?”

“Sev,” she said. She lowered her voice and looked around uncomfortably. “There’s a new Death Eater movement afoot, among some of the older students…..old enough to remember when You Know Who was still alive. They’re recruiting some of the younger students, stirring up bad feelings against Muggle borns. It's the same old poppycock, recycled for a new generation. Well…. Horace is getting ready to retire, and he never was much of a bulwark against such nonsense….."

“Neither was I,” said Sev.

“You…. you were, actually, and everyone knows it now. You could be a role model - for a new kind of Slytherin. Keep some of this dangerous foolishness in check.”

Sev didn’t know what to say. He didn’t miss teaching at Hogwarts - not at all. He liked his new job, his new life. But if there was truth in what Minerva said…...he felt a sudden cold chill go down his spine.

“I have Remus now,” he murmured. “The children…. Remus is expecting again, you know….”

Minerva looked startled at this news. “No,” she said. “I didn’t know…. Congratulations, Severus,” she added a bit limply. She bit the head off a ginger newt.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m happy at Spinner's End, Minerva. I like my job here. It’s peaceful. I’ve paid my dues, as you are well aware. I have no desire at all to go back to teaching.”

She looked at him again, a long probing look. “I understand, Severus. I’m not surprised, actually.” She took a final sip of her tea and stood. “I must get back to Hogwarts,” she said. She looked uncharacteristically weary. “Do give my congratulations to Remus. Thank you for the tea.” She turned into the bustling crowd and was gone.

********

Oakley wanted his Halloween candy after breakfast but Moony said not until after lunch, which made Oakley mad, so mad that he cried, but Moony was not swayed. Oakley was left alone in the gloomy lounge on this gloomy day with his trains and his tears. He built some buildings with his blocks and knocked them over with the big yellow bulldozer that Dudley had got him for his birthday. By the time Moony was done with the washing up from breakfast and making the beds, Oakley felt better, at least better enough that he allowed Moony to help him into his blue boots and blue Mackintosh and followed him out into the garden.

Oakley liked his blue boots and blue Mackintosh because they were the color of the sky. The rain had stopped, but it was damp and chilly in the garden. Everything was sodden and grey.

“You can play out here, if you like,” said Moony. “I have some orders to fill in the greenhouse.”

Oakley went over to the sandpit and studied it critically. It wasn’t very appealing. Faded plastic spades and rakes lay scattered about, a broken bucket, a few rusty trucks. The sand was damp and dark. A starling cawed loudly from the plum thicket at the side of the yard. It picked at a desiccated plum, and disappeared among the wet yellow leaves.

“ _Maybe I can find its nest_ ,” Oakley thought, and followed it into the bushes.

It was like a tunnel in here. The plum trees grew close together, their thin snappy branches all tangled up, closing out the rest of the world and making a secret place. Oakley wriggled underneath them, surrounded by pale yellow leaves. He heard the starling, rustling about in the bushes ahead of him and followed the sound further in among the branches.

“Hey, watch it,'' said a tiny voice.

It was a little brown man - a garden gnome. Oakley had nearly stepped on him. He knelt down on the wet ground, lowered his face until he was nose to nose with the indignant creature.

He was dressed all in brown, from his leathery brown tunic to his brown boots to his peaked brown cap. His face was brown and wrinkled, like a walnut, with a big brown nose like an upside down turnip. The only color on him was his eyes which were bright green and sparkling with anger.

“Hi,” said Oakley to the tiny creature.

“You nearly stepped on me!” came the reply.

Oakley put out a hand and stroked the little man’s velvety cap. “Wanna play with me?” he asked.

“Mebbe,” said the gnome. “What’s in it for me?”

Oakley reached up and plucked a withered plum from the branches above him and handed it to the gnome. The gnome bit it solemnly, chewed and swallowed. “A bit past its prime,“ he commented, but he finished off the fruit in a few competent bites and threw away the pit. “What now?”

“You can ride my trucks,” Oakley offered, and put out his hand. The garden gnome climbed up and stood on his palm.

When Remus looked out in the garden a while later to check on Oakley he saw him playing contentedly in the damp sandpit, pushing his trucks around and around in a circle, and talking to himself. And if he noticed the little garden gnome riding around on the top of the toy vehicles, he never said anything.

********

Wizarding obstetrics was about a hundred years behind Muggle obstetrics, so in addition to regular visits with the male pregnancy experts at St. Mungo's, Sev and Remus had started going to a Muggle maternal child health clinic. They chose one in central London, where no one would know them. Sev magically altered an NHS card for Remus, who wore a glamour to these visits, disguised as Sev’s girlfriend, with a fall of long brown hair and baggy maternity smocks. He flatly refused all examinations, but he had regular ultrasounds and prenatal testing, which was indicated for “advanced maternal age.”

Sev left work early and met Remus outside the Muggle clinic just before their appointment at three o’clock. They were scheduled to get the results of their amniocentesis. This procedure had nearly given Sev a heart attack, sitting in the wavy bluish light of the ultrasound machine, holding Remus’ hand, while they had inserted an enormous needle into his belly.

“It’s a girl,” the midwife told them, today, once they were settled in her office.

“A girl?” Sev said stupidly, as if he had never heard of such a thing, while the midwife smiled at them happily.

“Yes,” she responded. “A lovely little girl. And perfectly healthy. You'll have one of each, then,” she added. She had met Oakley, who had tagged along with them during a previous visit.

Sev somehow couldn’t imagine a daughter. Could he love a girl, the way he loved Oakley? Of course he already had Amanda who was his daughter for all practical purposes, and he loved her fiercely, protectively, in a way that made him want to kill anyone who caused her pain. So maybe it would be all right.

“We’ll have to paint the nursery pink,” he said morosely as he and Remus sat in a booth at their favorite London pub, where they invariably ended up after these visits.

He sipped at his lager and watched Remus stir sugar into his tea.

“Nonsense,” Remus replied. “We won’t change a thing. A yellow room with quidditch decals is perfectly appropriate for a girl. Maybe she’ll play for England some day.”

“Not….butterflies and flowers?” Sev asked, searching in his mind for girlish motifs. He felt a bit numb inside - a deer in the headlights type of feeling.

“Nah…” said Remus brushing the top of his belly lightly with his fingertips. “Let’s see what she’s like first. Maybe she’ll be gay, or even trans.”

“I’m not naming her Rory,” Sev said flatly, and Remus chuckled softly.

In fact, Sev had a name in mind, a gender neutral name actually, but he wasn’t sure what the right moment to bring it up might be. He didn’t know if it was stupid, or too much about himself, but he knew, in his heart, he had already decided what he wanted to name this child.

Now Remus solved the problem by bringing up the subject himself. He flicked his long bangs back from his eyes, took a sip of his tea, and asked “Have you thought about a name?”

“Have you?” Sev asked.

Remus sighed. “I’ve got kind of a running list in my head, but nothing is really standing out,” he replied. “Of course, now we know it's a girl, half the names on there get eliminated. I suppose we could consult the book.” Sev had bought him a book of baby names, their first Christmas together, when he had been pregnant with Oakley. “We could ask Amanda,” he added. “She came up with Oakley’s name, after all.”

Sev took a deep breath in, and Remus’ gaze on him sharpened. He didn’t really like Remus in his glamour, with the long hair and make up, dressed like some kind of hippie earth mother. He preferred him the way he normally was, in his tattered sweaters and trousers, with the bump pushing out above his belt, incongruous and wonderful.

“Phoenix,” Sev said. “What about… Phoenix?”

He watched as Remus took it in, watched as his mind clicked through all the reverberations, all the implications, of that name. It was a declaration of sorts. Sev’s patronus was a phoenix now. It had changed sometime after Dumbledore had died, after he had fallen in love with Remus. Remus himself had a phoenix tattooed on his back, across his shoulder blades, a remnant from his early days as a young recruit in the Order. And, of course, Sev felt like a phoenix himself, reborn from the ashes of an impossibly lonely and hopeless life.

Remus pondered his suggestion for what seemed to Sev like an unnecessarily long time, and then his brown eyes crinkled, his face broke into a smile, and he took Sev’s hand and kissed it.

“It’s perfect,” he said.

“You like it?” Sev said. “Really?”

“I do,” said Remus. “Phoenix Lupin -Snape.” He shook his head. “How did we end up here?” he mused.

“Just a couple of survivors of a great cataclysm,” Sev replied. He moved his hand down until it rested on the bump and his throat was tight and his eyes felt hot

Their food arrived, roast beef sandwiches and chips, and Sev thought it was the best meal he had ever eaten.


	5. Raking Leaves

The back garden at Spinner's End was strewn with brown and yellow leaves, so one afternoon Sev and Remus corralled the boys, armed them with rakes and they all headed out into the yard to clean up. It was a crisp fall day, the sky an impossibly clear azure, with the black branches of the trees etched against it.

The boys raked diligently for about 15 minutes but once the leaf pile got big enough the situation quickly evolved into a leaf jumping party. Sev and Remus stopped raking watched them indulgently. Remus leaned into Sev, who put his hands around the bump. He pulled Remus close, felt the baby turn. The full moon was tomorrow night, and Sev caught the scent of the wolf on him, felt the animal warmth rising from him. Remus shifted back, pressed in, and Sev felt a flicker of desire stirring within him.

Remus twisted his head back and kissed him. Remus was always more sexual before the moon. He reached around now, and gave Sev’s bum a possessive squeeze.

“Tonight,” Remus whispered. He moved away and started raking up the strewn leaves and throwing them on the children.

“More, Moony, more!” Oakley squealed in delight.

“Leaf fight! Leaf fight!” yelled Gavin, throwing an armful of leaves in Remus’ face. Remus, laughing and pink cheeked in the cool air, responded by dumping a huge armful of leaves over Gavin's head.

Sev stood basking in the late autumn sunshine and watched Remus frolicking with the children. He watched his arse moving inside his trousers, the slight waddle of late pregnancy. Remus was lost in the moment, throwing leaves at the kids, his face alight with happiness. Sev felt a warm glow of anticipation.

After a lifetime of near celibacy he found himself in a deeply committed relationship with an overly fertile werewolf. He had never looked back.

********

Narcissa sat in a cafe, nursing a latte. She didn't really want to go home to Lucius, and she had nowhere else to be. Surreptitiously, she removed a scrolled parchment from her bag. She reread it for the hundredth time. It was a letter from Andromeda.

_Dear Cissy,_

_I hope this finds you well. I was wondering if there was any way we could talk. As you know, Ted and Dora are both gone, and I find myself beset by a grinding loneliness. I do see Draco occasionally, and he seems to be doing well, although I suspect he misses you. Perhaps there is some way we could forget the past, and find a way to comfort each other. Bella is gone, and I feel you are the only family I have left. I miss the closeness we once had._   
_In hope,_   
_Andy_

Narcissa reread the familiar words, then with a sigh scrolled the parchment and placed it back in her bag. She took a sip of her latte, and looked around. Over the past few days she had noticed strangely dressed people in the village. They were all in black and white, with just a splash of red - a scarf, a pair of gloves, a ruby necklace, a single rose pinned on a lapel. Many of these people met and greeted each other excitedly, or quickly introduced themselves and were soon chatting like old friends. It had been going on for days. And everywhere, a consistent whisper of excitement. _The circus is coming! It should be any day now!_

Today they filled the usually sleepy cafe, chatting loudly, ordering glasses of wine or cups of coffee, plates of cheese and baskets of bread. These people were Muggles, but they didn’t act like Muggles usually did. There was an air of mystery about them. They seemed to be part of a secret society.

Narcissa sighed with annoyance. She finished her latte, then left the cafe. She went to the tiny library in the town square, her only other retreat. She found a table in the back, among the towering rows of dusty books. The happy conversation of those strange Muggles, their festive air of excitement, had made her realize how lonely and desolate she felt. She pulled out Andromeda’s letter, read it once again. Then she pulled out a clean piece of parchment and a pen.

 _Dear Andy_ , she wrote back. _I have received your letter and thought carefully about how to respond. Yes, I think we should attempt to see each other, but managing that will be somewhat challenging. I would prefer that Lucius not know about our correspondence as I do not think he would be pleased if he knew we were in touch… Have you really seen Draco? More than anything I hunger for news of my son._

_Could you get to Paris for a weekend? I dare not return to Britain, but I could probably convince Lucius to allow me a shopping trip in Paris if I wore a glamour._

_I know we have not always agreed, but I do hope we can move forward into a future where we can find common ground._

_With love,_   
_Cissy_

*******

By evening Remus was frazzled and irritable, with bloodshot eyes and a heavy growth of stubble on his chin. Sev made him sit by the fire, wrapped in a blanket, while he made a supper of scrambled eggs and leftover soup. They sat by the fire with the boys and ate, though Remus was not very interested in the food.

“Eat a little,” Sev coaxed, worriedly.

“Not hungry,” Remus replied, staring morosely into the flames.

“You need to eat,” said Sev. “Have a few bites, for the baby.”

“I don’t want food,” said Remus, looking at him meaningfully.

In the end, he ate a little, then Sev saw to the washing up, helped Gavin with his homework, read the boys a story and got them to bed early. They had recently moved Oakley upstairs, out of the nursery and into the large airy attic bedroom they’d built for Amanda and Gavin. Amanda had been moved into the guest room that had been vacated by Draco when he had moved in with Dudley.

“What’s wrong with Mr. Moony?” asked Gavin as Sev tucked him up.

“It's just the moon coming,” Sev replied. “He’ll be all right.”

“Okay,” said Gavin sleepily. The children were used to the moon.

“No reading under the covers,” Sev said. “Tomorrow’s a school day.”

“Okay,'' said Gavin again. He yawned, pretty convincingly, but Sev knew an act when he saw it. Oh well. He gave Gavin a good night hug, and went to kiss Oakley, who was already snuggled down under his blankets, thumb in mouth, butt in the air, clutching the worn plush broomstick that was his nightly companion.

“Sing to us,” he commanded, so Sev did, singing an old Yiddish lullaby he had learned from his grandfather, making up the words as he went along. Tonight he sang of the bright moon and the chilly breeze, the coming winter and the warm house filled with love, and when he was done, Oakley was asleep.

He turned on the night light, a gift from Harry and Ginny. It had a quidditch theme. He touched it with his wand, to set the shade to rotating, and the shadows of broomsticks and snitches started gently chasing each other around the room. He left the children in its soothing glow.

He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and douched. He had learned about this from one of his forays to a gay bookshop that he had discovered after he had started up with Remus. Well, there were certain things he felt he had to know, things he felt stupid asking about.

Predictably, in the week before the moon things switched between them, and Remus became more aggressive and wanted to be on top. It was so predictable that Sev had started looking forward to this week as a thrilling change of pace. Now, he felt a little shiver run through his loins, a wriggle of anticipation low in his belly. Severus Snape was distinctively and decidedly looking forward to being fucked.

He looked in the mirror, smoothed his hair. He sniffed his armpits and put on some deodorant. He checked his appearance again, undid the top button on his shirt. He nodded at the mirror, once. It would have to do. He turned out the bathroom light.

When he entered their room Remus was in bed, a lump under the covers, and Sev wondered if he was already asleep.

“Lock the door,“ Remus growled, and Sev felt a thrill start in his tailbone and travel, electric, up his spine. He was suddenly very aware of his breathing. He turned the old fashioned key in the lock and cast a silencing charm. He felt his penis, hardening inside his pants, He approached the bed, and pulled back the covers.

Remus was naked underneath. His smell rose in a wave of animal warmth, part sweaty human, part wolf, rank and musty. Remus looked at him and smiled a feral smile. His eyes were all pupil. He reached up and pulled Sev down and there was a moment of tussling. Remus growled low in his throat. He pushed Sev down on the bed and straddled him, hovering above him on all fours. The bump, dangling down, brushed Sev’s belly. Sev felt Remus’ hot breath on his face. Sev reached up to pull him down and felt the rasp of stubble against his cheek as Remus, mouth already open, kissed him, full on, his tongue twining hungrily around Sev’s.

“Off,” said Remus, impatient, tugging at Sev’s clothes. Together they worked him out of his shirt and vest. Then Remus took his time on Sev’s chest, tonguing and biting the nipples hard, pleasure on the edge of pain. He worked his way down the line of fine black hairs on Sev’s stomach that disappeared below his belt. Sev squirmed and thrust his hips impatiently as Remus tugged at his belt, undid his trousers and pulled them off.

With a wicked smile, Remus bypassed Sev’s cock, bulging against his boxers, and spent what seemed an unnecessarily long time biting and nibbling his thighs. Sev felt the growl of impatience growing in his own throat, as Remus worked his way down, not up, down his thighs and shins to his feet.

Remus fancied Sev’s feet, which were slender and elegant, with long toes and a few dark hairs which Remus found masculine and sexy.

“You have a foot fetish,” Sev murmured, as Remus lavished attention on them.

“ _Your_ feet,” Remus replied. “I have a fetish for _your_ feet.”

“All right,” Sev growled. “Get on with it then.” Though he had to admit, it made him feel loved, as he relaxed into the pleasure of Remus sucking on his toes.Finally, Remus moved back up his legs and, at last, at long last, put his hand on Sev’s screaming cock. And it felt good, it felt so good. Sev was desperate with wanting more, desparate with wanting Remus inside him. Remus slipped his hand under the waistband of Sev’s boxers and with a swift, efficient movement, pulled them off. He lowered himself onto Sev, their cocks pushing hard against each other, their hips grinding. Remus' eyes were shut tight, his body bathed in sweat. Sev felt Remus’ cock slip backward, until it was pressing against his crack. He shifted his hips impatiently and a moan escaped from his lips.

Remus’ eyes flew open and that wicked smile was playing over his mouth once again

“Want it, do you?” he whispered. Sev wriggled again pulling Remus close against his arse, and swallowed hard, feeling his Adam's apple move.

“Roll over,'' Remus commanded and Sev did, lying belly down on the bed. In a hoarse whisper, he heard Remus mutter a spell, summoning the lube.

Then Remus' tongue was on his arse, licking, probing and Sev wriggled appreciatively in response. He was ready, more than ready - he didn’t think he could stand waiting much longer. Remus kept going though, his tongue reaching deeper, lapping greedily at Sev’s hole. With a sudden movement he pulled Sev down so his knees were on the ground, bent at the waist, his belly and chest flat against the bed. He felt the cool of Remus’ finger, lubing him.

“Ready?” Remus panted.

“Do it already,” Sev growled. Remus spread his cheeks and he felt the tip of his penis, right against his entrance. Then slowly, ever so slowly he felt Remus pushing in. Remus’ hand, slick with lube, snaked around to cup Sev’s cock.

“Yesss,” Sev hissed. He dug his knees into the floor. “Please!” he moaned as Remus thrust in further, and “Baby,” and then he was climbing a steady tower of pleasure, with Remus a hard rod at the very center of him, his cock alive with nerves, Remus’ breath ragged and hot on the back of his neck, every thrust deepening his pleasure. At last Remus let out an animal whine, strangled and high pitched and then they were both undone and he was coming, groaning with pleasure and thrusting his hips hard against Remus who was shuddering inside him as his own release overtook him.

“I’m never leaving you,'' said Remus, rolling off of him and lying on his back with his belly in the air and his feet on the floor. He grabbed Sev’s hand and kissed it. “The sex is too good.”

"Feel better, do you?" said Sev.

"Much," Remus replied

They cleaned up a little and got into bed, and Sev let Remus spoon him. He felt the baby turn with a shiver against his back, inside her watery world. He turned his head to kiss Remus good night.

“Love you, wolf,” he whispered. Outside, the November wind rattled the bare branches of the trees.

"Mmmm," Remus sighed, and Sev felt his whole body relaxing against him. “Love you, too.'' And with a wave of his wand he turned out the light.


	6. Frost Moon

The afternoon of the full moon found Sev tied up at St. Mungo's with one thing and another. He was working on a tricky cure for a vanishing spell and there was an extra order for anti itching solution from Hogwarts, where there had been an outbreak of dragon pox. And, of course, he was finishing up the Wolfsbane potion for Remus. He arrived home later than he had intended, the sun low, the trees outlined against the orange glow of the western sky.

Gavin greeted him at the kitchen door. ”Mr. Moony threw up,” he announced.

“Where is he?” Sev asked.

“Upstairs,” Gavin replied. Sev moved swiftly inside, depositing his bag on a kitchen chair and digging in it until he found the flask of Wolfsbane potion.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked Gavin as he headed up the stairs.

“Almost,” Gav replied with a guilty little jump.

“Help Oakley pack up,” Sev instructed. “It’s late. Dudley should be here for you any minute.”

In their bedroom, Remus was pacing impatiently, back and forth, every muscle of his body tensed. He was his wearing maternity trousers and a tattered sleeveless t-shirt, pulled taught over the bump which stuck out awkwardly in front. He looked at Sev through bloodshot eyes, tinted with feral yellow.

“Where were you?” he snapped. He stopped to scratch furiously at the skin of his arms, then started pacing once again.

“Sorry,” Sev replied. “Work got busy. I couldn’t get away. Here.” He uncorked the flask and held it out to Remus who shook his head, and started pacing again. “I don’t think I can keep it down,” he said. “It's too late…I'll just puke again.”

“Nonsense,” said Sev in a businesslike manner. “Slow down for a minute, would you?” He tried to grasp Remus’ hand but he snatched it away.

“Don’t touch me!” he shouted.

Sev noted the dark hairs, growing long against the pale skin of Remus' arms, the heavy stubble of beard on his chin, the dark circles under his eyes. A trickle of drool escaped from his mouth and he wiped it away impatiently with the back of his hand.

“Drink it!” Sev commanded and Remus reluctantly took the flask. He looked at it distastefully. There was a wisp of greenish smoke rising from it. He screwed up his face, put it to his lips and swallowed. “Nasty!” he muttered. He gagged slightly, but he kept it down, and in a moment he visibly relaxed.

“ ‘S working,” he murmured, stopping his pacing at last.

“Of course it is,” said Sev. “Have another sip.”

Remus took another swallow. “You brew a good potion,'' he said with a sigh.

“Is that why you chose me?” said Sev. Remus laughed, a wild harsh laugh, with a note of insanity in it, though the joke hadn’t been that funny.

“Don’t spill it,” said Sev and Remus laughed again.

“Lunatic,” said Sev.

“Exactly,” Remus agreed, and then they were both laughing, and Remus let Sev pull him close, just for a moment.

“Finish that off," said Sev. “And be careful with it. I don’t want all my efforts going to waste. I have to see the boys. Dudley’ll be here any minute.”

“Poor Muggle born boy,” said Remus. "How'd he end up as part of this crazy family?"

“He’s all right," said Sev. “He likes it. Get ready,” he added, his hand on the door knob. “We’d best leave as soon as we can.”

He went up to the boy’s room, where Gavin was dutifully packing his knapsack. “Don’t forget your homework,” Sev admonished. He hurriedly packed Oakley’s backpack, with its logo of Marvin the mad Muggle, stuffing in his pajamas and toothbrush and a change of clothes. “Where’s your broom?” he commanded anxiously and Oakley dove under his blankets and retrieved the worn toy.

“Hullo?” Dudley’s voice boomed up from the kitchen. “I’m here.”

Sev took Oakley's hand. “Come along now Gavin,” he said as he headed downstairs, with Gavin trailing behind him, backpack on, cleats over his shoulder.

Dudley was standing in the kitchen in his workman’s clothes, steel toed boots coated with sawdust, hard hat hanging from a strap on his belt, ear plugs dangling around his neck.

“Hullo, chaps,” he said. “Ready to go?”

“Are we really getting pizza from Machievelli’s?” asked Oakley, looking at Dudley hopefully.

“Might do,” said Dudley, with a grin. “If you're good.” He swooped Oakley up and set him on his broad shoulders. “Got Broomy?” he asked.

“Papa packed her in my bag,” Oakley replied.

“Got your toothbrush?”

Oakley nodded solemnly.

“Thank you, Dudley,” Sev said.

“Have a good moon, Mr. Sev,” Dudley replied. Gavin gave Sev a quick hug around the waist. “Say bye to Mr. Moony for me,” he said, and they were gone through the back door.

Remus was still pacing back and forth when Sev got back upstairs. The eastern sky was an inky blue and there was a faint glimmer of the rising moon illuminating the horizon.

“Have they left?” said Remus, his voice gruff and scratchy.

“Yes,” said Sev. “Let’s go.” They turned out the lights, and left the house, locking the kitchen door behind them. They really only had a few minutes before moonrise. They got out to the back alley, beyond the wards, and Sev took Remus' hand.

“Let me apparate,'' said Sev “You’re in no condition.”

Remus nodded and Sev knew he was beyond human speech. He pictured in his mind the cave hidden in the mountains high above Hogsmeade. Remus’ hand was hot in his, and then he felt the tight squeeze of apparition and they were there.

Remus went wordlessly into the cave and Sev heard him taking off his clothes, heard his snuffling breaths, the low growl in his throat. The moon rose over the horizon, casting the world in silver, and Sev heard Remus’ cry of pain transform into the long deep howl of the wolf.

Sev focused his mind and by the time the wolf’s nose poked out of the cave, a panther stood drenched in the silvery moonlight. The wolf took off, running through the bare branched trees and the panther followed. The moon rose above the horizon, a huge glowing orb in the east. The panther felt the wild joy of movement in his strong sinewy muscles, breathed in the sharp perfume of late autumn - rotting leaves, damp earth and the musky scent of the animals of the forest. He heard the wings of an owl above his head, the rustling of a stoat among the leaves. He felt the love, strong and sure and simple, uncomplicated by human doubt or guilt, deep in his animal heart, as he chased his mate through the forest.

He did not notice the ghost of a large dog that followed at a distance behind them, glimmering softly in the moonlight, watching them sadly as they frolicked.

The ghostly dog followed them for a long time, but at last he left the woods. He didn't bother to go around the trees, his vaporous form moved right through them. He traveled a long way, until he came to a tidy cottage, with a lone lamp shining in a window. Soundlessly, he went through the walls and settled himself in the hearth rug, with his head in his paws.

The grey haired woman sitting in a chair by the fire looked up from her book and smiled.

“Hello Padfoot,” said Andromeda. “It’s nice to see you.” And she went back to her reading.

********

On the night of the full moon, black and white striped tents rose as if out of nowhere in a field out beyond a grove of almonds. There had been no arrival, no set up. It was simply there, an entire monochromatic circus, without a hint of color anywhere. Lucius and Narcissa went to investigate, wearing glamours, unable to resist the aura of magic about the place.

It was dusk when they arrived. They stood in line with the whispering crowd. There was an aura of excitement, but no one pushed or shoved, no one spoke above a whisper, in spite of the long wait. They could hear an old fashioned harmonium pumping out circus tunes, the sound weirdly tinny and fragile in the lowering gloom, as if the music were being played on pipes made of glass. At last their turn came. They bought their tickets, and entered the black and white world of the Night Circus.

The music was louder inside the gates, and the smell of good things to eat was overpowering. At the very center of the place a fire burned, white hot flames in a black kettle.

They wandered among the booths for about an hour, had their fortunes told by an ancient blind centaur, nibbled at some caramel corn which was delicious, though Narcissa was not hungry. She felt dry mouthed and on edge, exposed. They were taking a risk, being here. They should probably just go home. But she could not quite tear herself away. She felt as if she were looking for something, something important, but she didn't know what it might be.

At last they came to a snake charmer's booth. The music coming from this tent was high and fluting, with a lilt that suggested ancient kingdoms of the middle east. There were mirrored beads in black and white, hanging across the entrance, that gave off a glassy tinkle as Lucius and Narcissa entered.

The snake charmer’s head was wrapped in a turban, his face heavily bearded. He played an eerie haunting song on the flute. There weren’t many people in the small tent which was stuffy, the air heavy with incense. There were more fascinating attractions than a snake charmer here, to be sure.

Slowly the snake started to rise out of the basket. The green of its scales, bright and poisonous looking, stood out in sharp contrast in this place of black and white. It seemed to glow from within. It rose to its full height, then slithered up the snake charmer’s arm, over his muscled bicep, around his neck. It slithered down his body to the floor, then started to rise in loops from the ground, swaying and undulating to the music. Then it looked right at Narcissa with its black gleaming eye.

“Cissy,” the snake hissed, its forked tongue darting out of its mouth. “Cissy.”

Narcissa looked up at the snake charmer's face into the dark hooded eyes of Rodolphus Lestrange. He smiled at her, coldly and extended his hand, palm up, revealing the dark mark etched into the white skin of his forearm.

********

Gavin and Oakley had a good time at Draco and Dudley’s flat in the center of Cokeworth. An owl delivered pizza from Machiavelli’s, and Draco and Gavin played exploding snap. They had an ongoing tournament with complicated rules that only the two of them understood. Dudley tried to get Oakley to bet on the match but he was a little too young to understand the concept. Then they all watched a Muggle show on television that Dudley liked, and the boys were tucked into purple Hogwarts issue sleeping bags on the floor of the lounge.

The next day was windy and cold and Harry and Ginny came over, decked out in Gryffindor red, and they all went to Hogwarts to watch a Quidditch match. Amanda met them at the stands, dressed in Ravenclaw blue and, as Draco wore a green and silver scarf with pride they were quite a mixed crew. Gavin’s eyes were wide with excitement and Oakley couldn’t stop jumping up and down.

Ravenclaw was playing Hufflepuff, fortunately, which kept the animosity among the various members of their party to a minimum. Just before the game started Gavin cried out “There’s Mr. Sev!”

And there he was, talking to Professor McGonagall. He wore his black cloak, the silver dragon clasp at his throat, not a hint of green to indicate that he had been head of Slytherin House those many years.

“Mr Sev! Mr. Sev!” Gavin called loudly. ”Over here!" Sev looked up at them, sitting in the stands in their multicolored garb, and his face broke into a smile. He waved and climbed up the stands to join them.

The minute he sat down, Oakley crawled into his lap, snuggling into the warmth of his cloak. Sev put his arms around him and pulled him close. Gavin sat down beside him.

“How’s Mr. Moony?” he asked.

“He’s fine,” Sev replied. “He’s sleeping.”

The game began, blue and yellow robed figures dashing about in the windy sky. They were all rooting for Ravenclaw, because of Amanda, who sat between Ginny and Dudley, her blue and white scarf blowing in the breeze, her attention rapt on the game. She was keeping her distance from Sev, which he thought was appropriate; the teenage girl, pretending that her parents don’t exist in public. He felt Gavin beside him, his whole body tensed watching the game, following every move of the players with a laser like focus. Oakley snuggled against him and Sev could tell by the relaxed heaviness of his limbs that he was starting to fall asleep.

Ravenclaw won, and Amanda was elated. They decided to go to the Three Broomsticks for a celebratory drink. Sev had a quick word with professor Flitwick, so that Amanda could accompany them into Hogsmeade. They walked into town in the bracing air. When they arrived at the pub, it was already crowded with other post game revelers. There was a group of seventh years gathered at the bar, dressed in blue and singing a suggestive version of the Ravenclaw fight song in loud tipsy voices. They found a table at the back, and ordered butterbeers and burgers with chips. Their table buzzed with excited chatter as they dissected the various high points of the game, and Sev felt a quiet contentment, patriarch of this large and complicated family.

By the time that they had finished eating the sun had set and they stood outside in the inviting glow of the lights from the Three Broomsticks, saying their goodbyes. Sev was rushing a little. He had to get Amanda back to Hogwarts and he was feeling a need to get home and look after Remus, who would be awake by now, wanting his broth, and his tea with firewhiskey. He knelt to zip up Oakley’s jacket, when he heard a whisper behind him, low, but distinct.

“Blood traitor.”

He heard harsh laughter, and whipped around to see three figures in dark cloaks, receding into the dusk. His eye caught the flash of a green Slytherin scarf, and then they were gone.

He looked at Amanda, beside him. She was pale, and had obviously heard it as well.

“Do you know who they were?” he asked, under his breath.

“I can guess,” she replied.


	7. Braces, Puppies and Gnomes

Amanda’s teeth stuck out more than a little bit, and she had a gap between the two front ones. So the second week in November, she took the Knight Bus home from Hogwarts. Sev took the next day off from work, and brought her into London, to the orthodontist who had been recommended by Hermione’s parents. Orthodontics was non-existent in the wizarding world, the thinking being that crooked teeth gave a face character. So the more progressive parents ventured into the Muggle world for this service.

Amanda had complained bitterly about her teeth, and how they added to her general unattractiveness (I’m fat, too many spots, my hair’s not right, my nose is funny, look at my bushy eyebrows.) She could pick her appearance apart with a relentless focus that astounded Sev, who found her beautiful, and was mystified that she could not see it.

Remus took all this in stride, saying it was just the ups and down of a normal adolescence, and hadn’t Sev seen it all those years he’d taught at Hogwarts? Well, Sev wasn’t the kind of teacher that teenage girls came running to with their woes, and all the angst and drama that Amanda was going through felt like a foreign land. The only girl he’d ever been close to was Lily, and in Sev’s memory she had sailed through early adolescence with a grace and confidence that was distinctly lacking in Amanda. Or maybe he had been too in love to notice the spots and hair problems that Amanda was so fixated on.

In any case, everyone agreed that Amanda needed braces, and so an appointment was made. Sev and Amanda took the floo to the Leaky Cauldron, then took the tube to Highgate. Amanda sat beside him on the subway, looking about with interest. She was excited to be in London.

Sev sat beside a large rubber plant in the very clean and bright waiting room and read Muggle magazines for two hours while Amanda got her braces on. She came out and gave him a grin, glinting with metal. They were given a packet of rubber bands and a follow up appointment for the week after Christmas. Sev took her to a nearby pub for sausage rolls and chips and Amanda got used to eating with a mouthful of metal.

“How’s school going?” he asked as they walked back to the tube.

“Oh Mr. Sev,” she said, with such hopelessness that Sev looked at her with concern.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. He hated it when anyone caused Amanda pain. It filled him with a feral, protective rage. “Is anyone giving you a hard time?”

Amanda sighed. “I just don’t…. Fit in,” she said sadly.

“Neither did I,'' said Sev.

“These aren’t going to help,” she said glumly, gesturing to her braces. The paracetamol they had given her in the orthodontist’s office was starting to wear off. Her mouth hurt, and it felt all metallic and strange.

“No, I suppose not,” said Sev. “But it will be worth it in the long run.”

“It just seems like that's a really long time away,” Amanda said.

“You know you’re better than them, don’t you?” Sev said, fiercely. “You’re worth more than the lot of them, and in a few years, it’ll be obvious.”

“Not helping, actually, Mr. Sev,“ she told him.

He looked as if he had been struck. She instantly regretted her words, but she didn’t know how to take them back.

From the moment Mr. Sev had rescued her from the Dark Lord she had never doubted that he had loved her. That love had made her feel protected and safe, as if nothing bad could ever reach her again.

But what happened when that love wasn’t enough?

She reached for his hand, as she had ever since she had been a little girl, and they walked to the tube station together.

*********

Gavin played chaser for the Nettington Nargles in the Niffler Scouts Junior Quidditch League. One windy Saturday, Sev took Oakley to watch the game, leaving Remus alone in the house for a few peaceful hours. Remus had plenty to do. His mail order business, _Mr. Moony’s Moste Magickal Plants and Fungi,_ was modestly successful and there was always a backlog of work. He spent a couple of blissfully quiet hours in the greenhouse, pruning, watering and filling orders. He sent off the packages with the owls that he kept on a perch at the back of the greenhouse, scratching them behind the ears and giving them an owl treat before they flew away. When he was done he went back to the house, waddling slightly, his belly heavy. He felt huge and awkward, elephantine. He didn’t really like being pregnant. Only a couple more months, he told himself, and it’ll all be over. His eyes felt heavy, his whole body did. I’ll just start dinner, he thought sleepily, and then I’ll lay down for a few minutes.

Remus turned on the Wizarding Wireless and started making vegetable soup. He chopped onions and carrots, peppers and mushrooms, humming along to the tunes. They were playing oldies, the songs of his youth, which he loved. He added some leftover beans, some frozen corn, a jar of tomatoes he had canned the previous summer. Outside, the sky was grey and a chilly wind was blowing, but inside the old fashioned kitchen it was warm and cheerful.

Just as he was getting ready to go upstairs and take a nap, the back door opened and Gavin came flying in. His face was red and streaked with tears. He flung his cleats angrily onto the pile of shoes by the door, and stomped up to his room, slamming his door behind him.

Sev and Oakley entered. “Gavin losted,” announced Oakley. His eyes were shining, his cheeks red from the cold.

“I gathered,'' said Remus. “What happened?” he asked Sev, who was hanging up his cloak by the door.

“It was a tight game,” Sev said, coming over to give Remus a kiss. “Gavin dropped the quaffle at the last minute.”

“He losted the whole game,” Oakley said, his eyes wide and serious.

“He’s pretty upset, poor bloke,” said Sev. “I thought you were going to take a nap,” he added, looking Remus over with concern.

“I was just going to lie down,” Remus said.

“I’m hungry,” Oakley announced. “I want a snack.”

Sev went over to the sink and poured a glass of water. “I’ll bring this up to Gavin and try to talk to him a little,” he said. “Why don’t you get Oakley a snack and then lie down for a bit, all right?” He took the glass of water and headed upstairs.

“I want the little crackers that look like fishes,” Oakley said.

“All right,” said Remus. “And how about an apple?”

Remus sliced an apple and put the fish crackers in a bowl and went into the lounge. He got out some toys for Oakley, took off his shoes and lay down on the worn sofa in front of the fire. It felt good to be off his feet. He was tired. Pregnancy is a bitch he thought, for the hundredth time. He rubbed his swollen ankles, arched his spine trying to stretch out the sore place in the small of his back. He settled into the worn sofa with a sigh, lulled by the crackling of the fire, the gentle sounds of Oakley babbling to himself as he played. The trains were talking to each other, off on some adventure that Remus couldn’t follow. He started to drift off, and in his dreams he was standing on a train platform, the trains puffing steam. Their googly eyes and overly large smiles were vivid and terrifying. Then a new train puffed up, a black train, blacker than night. Its face was white, with snake-like slits for nostrils. Its eyes glowed red. The smoke coming from its spout formed a familiar shape, the Dark Mark. Then there was a flash of green light, a cold laugh and Remus startled awake.

He was sweating, and cold, in spite of the warm fire. Oakley was still playing peacefully. Sev walked into the lounge, a cup of tea in his hand, and handed it to Remus.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Just …..a….. a bad dream.” Remus shuddered. He sipped at the tea, gratefully. It was hot and fortifying. “It…. it was nothing,” he said, not wanting to worry him. Had it been nothing? It had been so vivid.

“How’s Gavin?” he asked Sev.

“O...Kay,” said Sev.

Remus looked at him sharply

“He’s ….fine,” said Sev uncertainly.

“What?” said Remus.

“It’s just… I think I might have promised him a puppy.”

“You what, now?”

“Erm…. A puppy.”

“A puppy.”

“Yeah.”

“You're joking, right?” said Remus. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Uh….no.” Sev shifted uncomfortably. “Not joking.”

“Sev,” said Remus. “The last thing we need around here is a dog.”

“Remus.....I...didn't really think it through.”

“Obviously not.”

“He...he was just so sad.”

“Brilliant parenting, Sev.”

Sev just looked at him helplessly.

“Kids lose games, Sev. That’s why they play sports. To teach them resilience. To teach them how to handle losing. Not to give them…..consolation prizes.”

“Gav’s been through a lot, Remus. He doesn’t let it show, but it affects him.”

“I know that.”

“Maybe a dog would be good for him.”

“And who’s going to end up taking care of this dog, Sev?”

“Gavin?”

“Me,” said Remus. “That’s who. And I have enough to do around here as it is, thank you very much. Especially with the new baby coming!”

“My mother hated animals. She would never let me have a pet.”

“Is that what this is about? You wanted a puppy when you were a kid?”

Sev shrugged.

“Oh, honestly,” said Remus, but he felt his heart softening. He thought of his dream, of the train with Voldemort’s face, the dark mark rising above it. “C’mere.” He reached his hand around to the back of Sev’s neck and kissed him. “You softie,” he whispered.

“Don’t tell anyone,” said Sev, and kissed him back.

“I love you, said Remus.

“That’s good,” said Sev. “Because I can’t do without you.”

Remus pulled him down for a longer kiss and Sev’s fingers lightly brushed the bump. But he looked up suddenly, startled by the unaccustomed quiet in the room.

“Where’s Oakley?” he said.

********

  
Oakley, bored with his trains and the adult chatter had wandered into the kitchen. A few of the fishy crackers and two slices of apple sat on a plate where he had left them. He had an idea. He scooped the food up into his grubby fist and went out into the back garden.

It was a soft November evening. The sky was a chalky grey, with a few streaks of pink in the west where the sun was setting behind the clouds. The wind had died down, but it was still chilly. Oakley shivered. He had forgotten to put on his jacket.

He went over to the plum thicket and sat down on the ground. He waited in the cold. When nothing happened after a few moments he bent his head, and peered down into the tangle of bare branches.

There, staring out at him, was a pair of bright green eyes.

Oakley opened up his hand and offered the food. The gnome slowly approached him and sniffed at it.

“Them crackers is all broke up,” he said with disdain.

It was true. The fishy crackers had been crushed in Oakley’s hand, and the apple slices were covered with bright orange crumbs. Oakley shrugged. “What's your name?” he asked.

“Dewdrop Dandylion,” the little brown man replied. “What’s yours?”

“Oakley,” the boy replied solemnly.

Dewdrop nodded approvingly. “Not a bad name,” he said. “For a human.”

Dewdrop moved forward and picked one of the crumb covered apple slices out of Oakley’s moist palm. He took a bite, chewed thought fully and swallowed. “Not too bad,” he said “I’ve had worse.” And he finished off the apple slice in a few expert bites of his tiny sharp teeth.

“Oakley!” Sev’s voice from the kitchen door was gruff with worry.

“I hafta go,” said Oakley, laying the other apple slice on the ground. “My papa wants me.”

Dewdrop picked up the apple slice and examined it. “Thanks,” he said,as he scurried back into the plum thicket.

********

Lucius and Narcissa returned to the Night Circus a few evenings later. Again they bought their tickets and wandered about the black and white world. They felt more comfortable here tonight, and they had plenty of time. They stood and watched a contortionist, spent a long time losing themselves in the hall of mirrors. They visited the beer garden, ordered sausage rolls and pomme frites, and sat at a table, under a string of black and white lights and sipped tankards of beer.

When the ornate clock at the center of the circus struck four times they made their way to the snake charmer’s tent. The crowds were thinning out now, and the night felt old. The aura of magic that had suffused the circus earlier was replaced by a flimflam feel. Old food wrappers blew about in the breeze, a tent flap fluttered in the wind in a desultory manner. The harmonium piped valiantly on, but the music sounded thin and tinny, meandering around the emptying exhibits.

Rodolphus Lestrange sat at his desk at the back of his tent, entering numbers into a thick ledger book with a large purple quill. The only other color in the room was the green snake that lay curled around his shoulders, like a shawl. A rat in a cage scrabbled loudly when they entered. It stood up, holding onto the bars, and looked at them with bright eager eyes. Narcissa noticed that it was missing one of its front paws. She shuddered in recognition.

“Down, Peter,“ Rodolphus said, slipping a pellet between the bars of the cage. The rat scuttled over to retrieve the treat and started nibbling at it intently.

“Hello Rodolphus,'' said Lucius. Rodolphus rose, and extended his hand, and the two men shook.

“Narcissa,” Rodolphus said, turning his dark, glittering eyes upon her, and Narcissa suddenly felt exposed. _Was Rodolphus an Occlumens?_ she wondered.

“Rodolphus,'' she said, extending her hand, and Rodolphus kissed it.

“Sit,” Rodolphus said, gesturing to the two straight backed chairs before his desk. “Can I offer you a glass of wine?” With the snake still coiled around his shoulders, he walked over to the cupboard in the corner and got out a bottle of wine and three glasses. It was a dark red, almost black in the low light. Narcissa sipped. It had an unpleasant metallic taste.

“It looks as if you’ve done well for yourself,” said Lucius, sipping his wine and looking about.

“Ah yes,” said Rodolphus. He also took a sip of wine, and smiled. Narcissa noticed that his teeth were small and sharp. “I purchased the Night Circus about a year ago. It had fallen on hard times, grown a bit seedy, but we’re gradually making improvements.”

“Whatever possessed you?” said Lucius.” Are you really a circus master? I couldn’t have imagined it.”

Rodolphus shrugged. “After I escaped from the Battle of Hogwarts, I laid low for a while, naturally. But then I became bored, and an opportunity arose. I needed a project. It was a chance to travel. It was a chance to….experiment with some new forms of power. This place is filled with power Can’t you feel it?”

It was true. Narcissa knew what he meant. She had felt it from the moment she had stepped into this black and white world.

“And there’s another reason,” said Rodolphus, looking at them meaningfully, his dark eyes glittering. “This place is a good cover, is it not?”

“What do you mean?” said Lucius. His voice was guarded, but Narcissa, sitting beside him, sensed his excitement. The opportunities this place offered had not escaped him.

“I think you know very well what I mean. You know, don’t you, Narcissa my dear?”

Narcissa did indeed know, She met Rodolphus’ glittering gaze and for a moment, his eyes flashed with a maniacal glee, then he resumed his calm, almost detached manner. Her heart filled with cold fear. Rodolphus Lestrange was a dangerous man. But then, he always had been. She nodded at him. Her mouth felt dry as a bone, and she did not trust herself to speak. She took another sip of the wine.

“I thought Bella was dead,” she said at last.

Rodolphus scratched the head of the snake which rested on his shoulder.

“She very nearly was,” he replied. “Molly Weasley believed she had killed her at the Battle of Hogwarts. But Bella drank unicorn blood before the battle, and that protected her from the worst of the killing curse. She lay on the battleground, stunned, in a state close to death. But then, in the chaos of the aftermath, when they were all celebrating their victory over the Dark Lord, she recovered enough to transform into her animagus form and slither away.”

He scratched the snake’s head again, and her dark forked tongue flickered out and licked his lips. “It will take more than that blood traitor to kill our Bella, won’t it my love?” he said.

“Once she had recovered she found Peter. The two of them left Britain on a cargo ship, still in animagus form. It took them years to find me, but they followed their noses, followed the scent of magic, so to speak, and here we are.”

“Why is Peter in a cage?” asked Narcissa, sharply.

“Oh well, for his own protection, mostly. This place is overrun by cats. And you know how skittish Peter can be. Unreliable. He can’t help it, really. It is his rodent nature.”

“Rodolphus,” said Lucius “What are you doing here, in Spain?”

“We came to find you two, obviously,” Rodolphus said. He smiled at them with his sharp teeth. They did not fit with the rest of his physique which was thick and powerful, with a well trimmed black beard and sleek black hair shot through with grey.

“How did you find us?” asked Lucius.

“It wasn’t very hard,” said Rodolphus. “I have contacts all over Europe. A few well placed owls and voila! But if you think you are safe from the Ministry here, you are mistaken. If they ever really tried to find you, it wouldn’t be difficult.”

Narcissa thought of her recent correspondence with Andromeda, and shuddered. Would finding them be as simple as sending an owl?

“Come with us,” Rodolphus said.

“Come with you?” said Lucius.

“The accommodations, I think you will find, are quite comfortable. And if you think that you are well hidden here, you are deluded. But this place is thick with its own magic. It acts as a kind of screen. I do not think we will be easily discovered here.”

“You want us to join the circus?” said Lucius.

“Now that Peter and Bella have joined me, I have reached out to some of our former allies. They are scattered but their hearts still beat with the love of the Dark Lord, and all he represented. We are meeting at the winter solstice, in Paris. Perhaps…. “ he said, and Narcissa again saw that maniacal gleam in his eyes. “Perhaps we will rise again.”

He raised his glass. The wine in it was the color of old blood, or of bile. “To the Dark Lord,” he said and drank deeply.

Lucius and Narcissa also raised their glasses. “To the Dark Lord,” they said in unison. Narcissa drank, but the wine tasted of blood and nearly gagged her.


	8. Biscuit

On a cold, clear Saturday morning, Sev found Remus in the greenhouse, pruning the venomous tentacula, always a challenging job. The tentacula did not like to be pruned, and it usually resisted vigorously.

“Just….. hold that one large frond back for me, would you?” huffed Remus, handing him a pair of dragonskin gloves by way of greeting.

Sev put on the gloves and did as he was asked while Remus applied the shears.

Gavin and Oakley appeared at the door of the greenhouse, in jackets, hats and mittens.

“We’re ready,” Gav announced. “When are we leaving?”

“In a few minutes,” said Sev, struggling to hold back the wriggling frond while Remus pruned. "I have to help Mr. Moony." A thick tendril started winding its way around his neck and Sev pulled it off with his other hand. “Why don’t you two get in the car?”

“I’m okay here,” said Remus, putting down the shears and removing his gloves. “That should do for today.”

“Sure you won’t come with?” said Sev, releasing his hold on the vicious plant with relief. The venomous tentacula visibly relaxed, settling back down into its pot and shaking out its leaves, which suddenly turned a brighter, happier shade of green.

“Nah,” said Remus. “It’s your funeral.”

A few minutes later they were on the road, Sev at the wheel of the old Ford Anglia that Arthur Weasely had loaned them. In the back seat, Gavin chattered happily about dogs - which breeds were best, which color, which size. He had gotten several books on dogs out of the library and had been avidly reading them for days.

They arrived at the RSPCA Animal Rescue League, which occupied an old farm house on the bluff of a hill, overlooking the surrounding fields. Inside it was smelly and noisy with the yapping of many dogs in cages. They were shown around by a matronly woman in grey tweed named Mrs. Peels. She pointed out the various attributes of each dog, how long they’d been there, what combination of breeds they were. Oakley, a bit overwhelmed, clutched tightly to Sev’s hand, but Gavin went from cage to cage, studying each occupant and listening to Mrs. Peels intently.

“That one,” said Gavin at last.

It was a medium sized dog, not too big, not too small, white with black and brown spots, and a crooked ear. Mrs. Peels unlocked the door of the cage. The dog looked at them quizzically, cocking his head.

“Here pup,“ said Gavin softly. The dog came forward and sniffed his outstretched hand.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Oakley asked.

“A boy,” Mrs. Peels replied, studying the tag on the outside of the cage.

“What’s his name?” asked Oakley.

“Biscuit,” said Gavin decisively, petting the dog’s head. The dog’s tail wagged with pleasure at the attention. “His name is Biscuit.”

********

That night was cloudy and unusually warm for November. Sev sat out in the garden, wrapped in his cloak and smoked a bowl of gillyweed while Remus put the children to bed.

After a while, Remus joined him, sitting down heavily in the chair beside him. Sev offered him the pipe which was old and cracked.

“I shouldn’t,” Remus said, gesturing to his swollen belly. “Baby.”

“One toke won’t hurt,” Sev coaxed.

“All right,” Remus agreed and took a hit.

“How’s the puppy?” asked Sev.

“Cuddled in bed with Gavin,” Remus replied. “They seem pretty happy. Maybe it will be all right.”

“It's all your fault, you know,” Sev said.

“How is it my fault?” Remus replied. “You're the one who agreed to get a dog!”

“I would never have had ….any of this….. If it wasn’t for you.” Sev gestured around the yard, the swing set, the sand pit strewn with toys, the rambling garden, now gone to weeds in the late days of autumn.

“I guess I did create a lot of chaos in your life,“ said Remus, taking another hit off of Sev’s pipe.

“You definitely interfered with my plan to lock myself in this house and drink myself to death.”

“Was that your plan?”

“Pretty much, if I survived the war, yeah.”

“Well, it's a good thing I came along then.”

“Indeed.”

“You probably would have found somebody, if it hadn’t been me.”

“I doubt it, Remus, how many queer pregnant werewolves do you think there are knocking about?”

“I am a bit unique.”

“Damn straight.”

Remus held up the cracked and stained pipe and studied it. It was made of stone, with a flower inlaid in the stem. The quiet of the evening settled all around them.

“How long have you had this old pipe?”

“I’ve had it since school,” Sev replied. ”I used to smoke it with Lily.”

“You smoked gillyweed with Lily?”

“Sure,” said Sev. “We were best mates. And there wasn’t a whole lot else to do in Cokeworth during the summer holidays. Then there was that brief period when we were trying to actually have a relationship.” Sev took the pipe from Remus and took another hit. “Of course, that didn’t last very long.” He heard the bitterness in his own voice, still there after all this time.

Part of why he had never left Spinner’s End, Sev knew, was because he felt closer to Lily in these rooms, within these walls. Her ghost had never come to visit him, but sometimes he thought he caught a glimpse of her flaming hair, heard a tinkle of her girlish laughter, that sound that had made him feel so free and hopeful in his youth. He could still see her there, as if it were yesterday, standing politely at the front door asking if he could come out and play. They had played hide and seek in the abandoned greenhouse, her irresistible laughter giving her away. Or in later years she’d come over to do homework during their breaks from Hogwarts, sitting beside the hearth, quill in hand, chewing on a strand of red hair, her face tight with concentration.

Remus maintained that Sev was bi, insisting that a person can’t be passionately in love with the same woman for his entire youth and then turn around and claim to be queer. But Sev recognized now that his passion for Lily hadn’t really been sexual. She had been like a comet, shooting across the firmament of his youth, the brightest, most beautiful, most desirable thing in his world. She had offered him friendship, and kindness, and understanding, a balm to his lonely heart.

He had certainly slept with plenty of women. In his younger days, when he had been a rising star in Death Eater circles, he had been something of a hot commodity, and there was no shortage of women. He had liked the attention, and the sex, but he had always been careful not to promise too much. Then he’d had a pregnancy scare with one girlfriend, and that had spooked him. After that, he’d turned increasingly to the wizarding red light district, which left him feeling dirty and ashamed, but also seemed less risky and complicated.

All through those years he’d looked at men covertly, never daring to act on his sometimes strong attraction. And then there had been Remus. Falling in love with Remus had been exactly that, a literal free fall, uncontrollable, unstoppable. His attraction to Remus was a force of nature, like gravity, impossible to resist.

And here he was, four years later, an openly gay man with a pregnant husband and a large complicated family. He had entered a tunnel of love, warm and close, and he had no desire to leave. It could still bring tears to his eyes, to come home to Spinner’s End and smell dinner cooking, to have Oakley come running to be picked up, the feel of his thin arms, sticklike and fragile and so, so vulnerable around his neck, the clean smell of his head. He had become a bather of children, a reader of stories, the sort of person whose heart swelled with pride as he watched his son’s triumph on the Quidditch pitch, whose heart ached with worry as his daughter went through the ups and downs of an awkward adolescence.

"What are you thinking?" said Remus taking his hand. It felt warm in the cool night air and the stars above looked very bright and Sev realized he was stoned.

“Just…. You…..me…..Everything.”

“Missing Lily?” Remus guessed.

“Not exactly.”

They sat there in the quiet of the garden. From somewhere out in the world a dog barked, a car door slammed. The moon appeared from behind the clouds, a ghostly sliver, riding low over the greenhouse.

“It wouldn’t really work for me with anyone but you,” said Sev at last.

“You can’t really know that,” Remus replied. “If it wasn’t for me you’d find someone else.”

“I didn’t all those years, you know. I was so lonely. It...it takes a lot for me to trust, Remus.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I always knew that about you, that your heart was true. All those years you waited for Black. You were so miserable.”

“I remember,” said Remus ruefully.

“But you were loyal. You never wavered.”

“When he died it nearly broke me.”

“I know….It’s not like I didn’t notice you.”

“You noticed me?” said Remus.

“Yes, always. You never noticed me, obviously.”

“I just assumed you were straight. And I never.....I could never take a chance on a straight man, Sev. I’ve had way too much heartbreak to risk that.”

“Well I noticed you. And I saw that once you gave your heart, you gave it fully. And… and that’s what I need.”

Remus put his hand to his lips and kissed it. A breeze rattled the branches of the trees. Sev felt the world around him, breathing, alive. He looked around again at the gloriously messy yard, the detritus of a full life, his life. He had been so lonely here as a child. How had this happened?

The breeze blew again and Remus shivered beside him.

“Let’s go inside,” said Sev. They rose and Sev put an arm around Remus’ shoulders and pulled him close. “That’s the thing I need the most,” he whispered, into Remus’ hair.

And they made their way back into the house.

*******

Narcissa had acquired few possessions in the time she had lived in Spain, at least few possessions she wanted to keep. She had no books, no photos, no jewelry. All that remained at Malfoy Manor. There had been no time after Voldemort’s defeat to go home and pack. They had fled with the clothes on their backs, the gold in their pockets. Luckily, Lucius had got in touch with their solicitor, Hieronymus Crouch, a trusted old family friend with Death Eater sympathies. He would not betray them. He had managed their affairs in England, seen to the shuttering of the Manor, and sent them money to live on each month.

More than anything, Narcissa wished for a photo of her son. But she had nothing. Hieronymus informed them that Draco was working at Gringotts as a clerk, and living with a Muggle boy who was rumored to be his lover. He maintained a close relationship with Severus Snape, and had been seen in Diagon Alley in the company of Harry Potter and his friends. Other than that, Hieronymus knew nothing, but he warned them that Draco gave every appearance of having gone over to the other side, and that it would be dangerous to attempt to communicate with him.

Now Narcissa sorted through the paltry collection of clothing she had accumulated. She packed only items of black, white or grey. Everything fit in a small valise, which she snapped shut with a decided click. She carefully tucked the letter from Andromeda into her handbag. She was glad to be leaving Spain, which had held nothing but heartbreak for her. Perhaps France would be an improvement. She would be closer to England, and Draco - just across the channel. And she had already made arrangements to see her sister in Paris.

Lucius was waiting downstairs. Narcissa picked up her bag and went off to join the circus.

********

Sev and Remus had been debating for some time about putting Oakley in preschool. Remus was concerned that he had a lack of exposure to other children his own age. He and Oakley attended several neighborhood playgroups for toddlers. But many of these children were now in preschool, and Remus fretted over Oakley’s social development. Oakley’s best friend, a tow headed little boy named Riley, who lived a few doors down, had started at a nursery school in the basement of the old cathedral in the center of Cokeworth and no longer came to the neighborhood playgroup. Sev thought that Remus was excessively anxious, and that Oakley would be fine at home until he was old enough for the local primary school, but Remus wasn’t so sure. He thought perhaps Oakley should go to the magical creche that a forward thinking young witch had started in Hogsmeade. It had made sense to put Gavin and Amanda in a Muggle primary school - it was what they were used to, after all, but Remus thought Oakley should get as much exposure to the magical community as possible. He and Sev had both grown up going to Muggle schools, he pointed out, and had arrived at Hogwarts at a distinct disadvantage.

Sev disagreed. Putting Oakley in a magical preschool made him feel exposed. Everyone would know who his parents were, everyone would judge him.

“He may as well get used to it,” was Remus’ response. “It’s not going to be any easier for him when he starts Hogwarts.”

Now with the new baby coming, Remus felt an added sense of urgency. “It makes sense to start Oakley in preschool now,” he argued with Sev. “He can get comfortable there before the baby arrives, and if he has new friends at school it won’t be such a big adjustment for him.”

“Besides,” Remus added. “It would give me a bit of a break.”

Sev couldn’t really argue with that. He worried over Remus constantly, noticed the lines around his eyes, the heaviness to his step. This pregnancy had been hard on him, and Sev knew he needed to rest. And after the baby came… well… they both knew from experience how exhausting an infant could be.

So, Sev agreed at last and Oakley was enrolled in Madame Marple’s Magickal Creche. Madame Marple was a young mother herself, and her school, on a leafy side street Hogsmeade was a delightful place, with a large climbing structure in the front yard and a fairy garden at the back. Inside were paints and crayons, blocks and trucks and a huge doll’s house that took up an entire wall of the bright colorful playroom. Oakley loved it from the first moment they visited.

And he made a friend the very first day, a dark haired little girl named Delphi, with a sweet, heart shaped face, so that was all right. Gavin’s quidditch team won two games in a row. Biscuit only peed on the floor occasionally, and Remus found he enjoyed the dog’s companionship during the day when the children were at school. Amanda was still miserable at Hogwarts but there was nothing to be done about that. She had to work it out for herself, Remus and Sev agreed, and the less they interfered the better. Molly Weasely owled them about making plans for Harry and Ginny’s wedding. The moon came again, and they got through it all right, in spite of Remus’ anxiety. It was hard to go through the transformation when he was this far along, but the baby seemed fine afterwards, rolling and kicking in her watery world.

With Oakley settled in preschool, Remus could take a nap every afternoon. And as the days marched on toward Christmas, Remus felt himself turning inwards, communing with the child growing inside him, peaceful and content.


	9. Santa Baby

Sev had never done his own laundry. This was a job that had always been handled for him, first by a resentful mother and then by the house elves at Hogwarts. Now however, with a growing family, and Remus busy with the greenhouse and chasing Oakley and a million other things, the job fell to him.

In the basement of the house on Spinner’s End there was an ancient tin wash basin, charmed to wash the clothes on a rusty, evil looking washboard. The clothes had to be wrung out on an old fashioned mangle and hung to dry on lines that snaked across the basement ceiling. Some of it could be managed magically, but it was still a lot of work. Even in the far gone days of his childhood, Sev remembered his mother complaining about their antiquated laundry system, bitter that they could not afford anything better. Now, Sev felt himself experiencing similar emotions.

Sev had an updated washer picked out from an advert in the back of Witch Weekly: _Mrs. McMimble’s Automatic Washer for the Busy Magikal Home._ They had been saving up for it for two years, but it was slow going, and there always seemed to be someplace else to put those galleons.

Sunday was laundry day and Sev spent too much time, more time than it should have taken, gathering up laundry from various baskets and hampers, from under beds and the rear of closets. He emptied backpacks to find smelly gym clothes, felt inside boots to find damp, rolled up socks. As he was making his third trip to the basement, wafting an overburdened hamper before him Remus called to him from the kitchen, “Bring up the Christmas boxes, would you? I’m going to start putting up the decorations today.”

Sev didn’t really know how it had happened, but he had become the kind of person who had a whole shelf in his basement devoted to holiday decorations. There were two cardboard boxes that said _Halloween_ , in black marker. There was a box that said _Saint V’s_ , one that said _Easter,_ one that said _Birthday,_ another that said _Summer/Paper lanterns._ However, the dominant theme was Christmas. The original box marked _Xmas_ that Remus had found in the attic years ago, for their first Christmas together, had expanded to four. Remus had a deeply held belief that a multitude of colored lights and paper decorations were essential for a happy childhood.

Sev levitated the Christmas boxes up the stairs, past the pantry shelf Remus had also set up. This shelf was loaded with pasta and beans and tinned tomatoes, mostly in dented cans or boxes, all found on sale, the basis of many cheap and nourishing meals. Remus’ energy for domestic economy was boundless. He had boxes of clothes and shoes in the attic, stowed neatly away for the children as they grew, labeled things like _Boys Size 6-8_ or _Girls size 12 -14 including shoes_.

Sev didn’t mind. Actually, he liked it. Who would have thought that Severus Snape was cut out for a life of domesticity? But it turned out that he was.

Now he sat on the basement floor and sorted laundry. Lights and coloreds, heavily and lightly soiled; Gavin’s stinky quidditch uniforms, Oakleys’ pajamas with Marvin the Mad Muggle stencilled on them, sheets and towels, Remus’ maternity trousers and tops. He piled the sorted laundry in baskets.

He started a load in the ancient creaky washer. He shook his head, What terrible gay men we are, he mused. We should be staying out all night dancing, lying on a beach in Rio or something. But again, he didn’t mind that either. He got a sudden image of himself, flapping around by the ocean somewhere in his black robes, like an oversized bat, Remus lying under an umbrella with a very large book. Things were probably best left as they were.

Severus Snape was living the life he wanted.

*******

Christmas was coming, and every house on Spinner’s End glowed and sparkled with lights. One Saturday, Sev took the boys to Diagon Alley, leaving Remus at home to fill orders for _Mr. Moony’s Magickal Mistletoe_ and then put his feet up for a bit. The wizarding shopping district was alight with Christmas decorations and bustling with busy shoppers. A large tree dominated the center square and an ice skating rink had been set up. A gentle snow was falling, although the rest of London was soggy with the chilly rains of December.

What a contrast, Sev thought, from Diagon Alley during the war. Then it had been a grim place, with boarded up stores, beggars in the street, wanted posters of Harry and Remus leering from every available surface, and dementors on every corner. Was it three years ago, or four? He couldn’t quite work it out. Oakley was going to be four in May, and Remus had been pregnant then, pregnant and in hiding and so, so scared. Sev remembered the grinding anxiety of that time, and yet, it had been an awakening of sorts for him, falling in love with Remus and his unborn child in the darkest days of the war. He remembered the wonder he had felt as the baby had grown and started to move, how fiercely protective he had felt. Falling in love had been an act of utter foolishness, under the circumstances, and by some miracle of Merlin, they had survived it.

The boys were clamouring to try ice skating, so Sev rented them skates from the wizened old wizard who ran the rental booth. He sat on a bench and had a cup of tea, watching as they floundered around on the ice. It was all he could do to hold himself back as Oakley struggled and fell, repeatedly, but he got up each time, laughing, and Sev knew he was best left to work it out for himself. By the end of an hour both children were both getting around the ice reasonably well and they were tired out and clamouring for cocoa.

After their cocoa they wandered around Diagon Alley, enjoying the festive atmosphere. They spent a long time staring in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, admiring the broomsticks on display, and then stopped in at Honeydukes, which had opened a branch in London. Sev gave them half a sickle each to spend. Gavin spent his on chocolate frogs, but Oakley chose pepper imps, then cried when they burned his throat and steam came out of his ears. Gavin generously gave him a chocolate frog as a consolation prize.

“It’s Hagar the Horrible,” Gav told Oakley, looking at the card. “That’s a good one. She’s really rare.” And Oakley was comforted.

Sev bought a box of sugar plum fairies for Aunt Pepper and Aunt Spider. They gleamed in their silver box, deep purple, and dusted with sugar, their wings gently flapping. Then they stopped in at Madame Marilyn’s Magickal Variety to buy a collection of Christmas crackers.

“Can’t we go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes?” Gavin begged. Sev looked at his watch uncertainly. The afternoon was growing late, and they had to be at King's Cross at five to meet Amanda who was coming in on the Hogwarts Express.

“If we don’t take too long,” Sev conceded, and he shepherded the boys in the direction of the wizarding joke shop.

Weasley’s was packed with holiday shoppers, many with overexcited children in tow. Children were running and shouting loudly. Somewhere in the back room a toddler was having a shrill tantrum. Sev recognized several parents from Oakley’s preschool or Gavin’s Quidditch league. Others were former students from Hogwarts, now trying to control their snotty nosed, demanding offspring.

George Weasley, master of ceremonies, came over to greet them.He was wearing magenta robes, which clashed magnificently with his red hair. His gleeful manic persona couldn’t quite cover up the sadness in his eyes, that had been there since his brother had died. He shook Sev’s hand, then took the boys to the back of the shop to show them “the really good stuff.”

They returned sporting mustaches which, George assured Sev would fade away in a few hours and clutching screaming yoyos and a bag of dungbombs that George had gifted them with. Sev thanked George, who tipped his hat.

“Anything for a fellow member of the Order,” he said, and turned to serve another customer. They left the store, and made their way through the portal and then through the rainy, foggy streets of Muggle London to meet Amanda at the train.

********

The next morning they woke to a world covered in white. The boys pulled on boots and raced out into the yard in their pajamas, whooping joyfully, with Biscuit yapping at their heels. The dog plowed through the snow, ran in circles and yapped in frustration as the snowballs the boys threw for him disappeared into the snow before he could find them. Amanda stood in her dressing gown beside Sev and Remus and laughed at their antics. It felt good to be home.

They went back onto the warm kitchen, and Sev made coffee while Remus started mixing up a batch of pancakes. In a few minutes the delicious aroma of fresh coffee filled the little kitchen. It was Oakley who noticed Amanda helping herself to the coffee pot.

“Kids don’t drink coffee,” he objected. “You’re a kid.”

“I’m thirteen,” she told him.

“Not really a kid any more,” Remus noted.

“I drink it at school all the time,” Amanda said.

“Cream’s in the cold box,” said Remus returning to his pancakes.

“Can I have coffee too?” Gavin asked, with a grin.

Remus looked him up and down. “Nope, “ he replied. “You _are_ still a kid. I can make cocoa if you like.”

“Yay!” Oakley cheered, while Gavin pouted.

“Get dressed you two,” Remus replied. “We’re going into the village to get our Christmas tree today.”

“Yay!” Oakley cheered again, and Remus returned to his skittle. Amanda, still in her dressing gown, took her coffee out to the lounge, and sat by the fire, and watched the snow falling quietly outside the window.

********

One dark snowy evening, Draco and Dudley went to get a tree for their flat. They walked to the village square, a few blocks away. In the parking lot beside the Cathedral, a Christmas tree stand had been set up, with colored lights strung from poles and sappy Muggle Christmas tunes playing from a staticky radio. They spent a long time in the cold and the dark, so long that their hands were freezing, while the surly Muggle man who ran the stand held up one tree after another for their inspection. At last they found the perfect one, and they dragged it through the snowy streets, and up the stairs to their flat. Draco charmed it to stand upright in a pan of water and they strung it with fairy lights that Dudley had bought at the pound shop. They opened lagers and put on the radio while they made dinner. They both liked to cook, they had discovered, once they’d gotten a place of their own. Dudley had spent a lifetime watching his mother prepare meals, and for all of Petunia’s shortcomings, she was an excellent cook. Draco knew nothing about cookery. He had grown up in a home where delicious meals, prepared by house elves, had magically appeared. He did not remember his mother ever setting foot in the kitchen. But he found he enjoyed reading cookery books, and trying new things. Tonight Draco set a knife to chopping onions, then made a salad, while Dudley browned chicken and vegetables in a pan. The kitchen was warm and steamy after the cold outside, and Dudley felt good. He liked this, making dinner together, getting ready for their first Christmas in their new flat. He opened a second lager, grabbed Draco round the waist and started dancing with him to the music.

“ _Santa baby_ ,” crooned the voice on the radio. _“Hurry down the chimney tonight_.”

“What are you doing?” said Draco, laughing and pushing him a way.

“C’mon,” coaxed Dudley. “Dance with me.” He was a little bit drunk, he realized.

“You’re being an idiot,” Draco objected.

“C’mon,” Dudley insisted. "No one's watching," and Draco relented, letting Dudley put his arms around his waist and steer him around the room. The singer crooned on, her voice honey smooth and sexy. “ _Think of all the fun I’ve missed, think of all the fellas I haven’t kissed.”_

Dudley felt Draco relax into him, fall into step. He tried a little twirl and Draco, laughing now, kept up with him.

“ _Santa baby, I forgot to mention one little thing, a ring, I don’t mean on the phone.”_

“I should get _you_ a ring,” Dudley muttered into Draco’s ear, pulling him close.

He realized immediately that he had made a mistake. Draco stiffened, and moved away from him.

“ _Santa baby, hurry down the chimney tonight,”_ the song went on. They stared at each other, then Draco turned away, and went to stir the pot on the stove.

“I think it’s ready,” he said. The song finished and _Blue Christmas_ started playing. The whole atmosphere in the kitchen had changed. Dudley felt a hollow, awful feeling in his chest.

They filled their plates and ate without speaking. When they were done, Draco got up and snapped off the radio. “I’m going for a walk,” he announced.

Dudley saw to the washing up in the quiet kitchen. When he was finished he sat down in the lounge and stared at the tree, sparkling in the dark room. He felt terrible.

At last he heard the front door open, Draco’s footsteps on the stairs. He entered their apartment, shook off his shoes, hung up his coat.

“It’s still snowing,” he announced.

“Draco I….”

“It’s all right,” Draco cut him off. “I’m not mad. You just….Took me by surprise.”

“Sorry,” said Dudley. “I didn’t….”

“I know.”

“It’s just…..”

“What?”

“I get it,” said Dudley. “I understand your reasons, your family and everything, I do. It’s just….Harry and Ginny are getting married. Maybe we should think about it too.”

Draco sat down beside him and stared at the tree. The room was so quiet they could hear the snow shushing against the window.

“You’re it for me, Draco,” said Dudley, and he was surprised to hear the intensity in his own voice. He looked over at Draco, who was sitting very straight and very still, his eyes intent on the tree. “You should know that by now. I’m not interested in anyone else. And I want…..I want us to start building a future together.”

“I’m happy, all right?” said Draco at last. “With you, I mean."

"Good," said Dudley.

"I’m just....I'm not ready…...”

"I can wait," said Dudley, very quietly.

Draco looked at him, and their eyes locked. They leaned in, their foreheads touched. Dudley put his arms around the back of Draco’s neck. Draco moved in to kiss him, and his lips were so warm and so soft and Dudley felt the pull of Draco’s body, calling to him. But before they lost themselves in each other completely, he buried his head in Draco’s neck and whispered, “I just don’t want to wait forever.”


	10. Eltanin Von Wold

If you totted up all the shitty Death Eater things the Malfoy family had done, they came out about even with all the shitty Death Eater things the Zabini family had done. Which helped Draco feel comfortable around Blaise. He was just about the only person Draco would bother to go out with for a pint and just talk.

Blaise had fallen hard for Luna Lovegood after the war, fallen in a way that, in Draco’s opinion, showed a distinct lack of caution. It was one thing to fall in love with someone inappropriate. Draco himself had done that.

It was another thing to make a public display of it.

One windy Wednesday evening, the week before Christmas, Draco met Blaise for a beer at the Leaky Cauldron. The place was busy with the after work crowd, and Draco and Blaise sat at the far end of the bar. Their conversation felt private with the buzz of chatter all about them. They were into their second pint and Blaise was talking about Luna.

“Why don’t you just … you know… declare yourself?” said Draco, at last. He was growing a bit impatient with Blaise’s obsessive dissection of his relationship with Luna. “Get on one knee? Give her a ring?”

“I've thought about it,” said Blaise, staring into his beer glumly. “Believe me, I have, but … I don’t think Luna’s ready for that. I’d probably just scare her off……” He looked at Draco. “What about you and Dudley then? Getting ready to pop the question?”

“No.” Draco squirmed uncomfortably.

“Why not? You two seem.….pretty happy.”

“We are. Well to tell you the truth, he wants to.”

“Wants to what?”

“Get married…. “ said Draco. He felt the heat on his stupid pale face and looked into his beer. “But I…..Don’t feel ready for that.”

“Why not? You love him, yeah?”

“Yeah. I do. I love him…..a lot.”

“How’s the sex?”

Draco smirked. “It’s amazing, actually.”

“Okay then, great sex and you love him, and he wants to get hitched. What’s holding you back? Worried your family won’t like it?”

“Well.....they won’t, but I don't give a nargle’s nut about that.”

“What then?”

“I guess…..I’m worried…..If we got married we’d start to take each other for granted. I mean, in a way, Dudley’s all I’ve got. He’s been through a lot of shite with me, and he’s stuck by me. He’s good about it too. He knows when to shut up and just listen, he doesn’t give me a lot of phony advice or encouragement. I depend on him…. Emotionally, I mean. I don’t want to bung it up. I…..I never thought I could really feel…..this way about anyone. It happened.....during the war and I think it surprised both of us. I fought it for a long time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well….I didn’t want to be queer, for one thing, although honestly, it was pretty obvious, but I had a hard time accepting it. I know my parents would hate it if they knew. And then Dudley’s .....Muggle born…..and…..I mean, everyone thought he was Muggle, actually, for the longest time…..until the final battle when his magic just kind of…...came pouring out.”

“So that’s why he didn’t go to Hogwarts.”

“Yeah.”

“And now?”

“Well, he doesn’t have any training, but…..he uses my wand sometimes and his magic is definitely there. I've been teaching him a few things. He’s pretty cute about it actually.”

“Cute,” said Blaise, and Draco blushed.

“I think I’m drunk.”

“Yeah,” said Blaise. “We both are. Let’s have another. He signaled Tom the barman and ordered another round.

“I’m thinking of getting him a wand for Christmas.”

Blaise sipped the foam at the top of his fresh lager thoughtfully. “Instead of a ring?”

Draco shrugged.

“Good practice for a ring, I suppose.”

“Shut up,” said Draco.

“So…..are you going to get Luna a ring?” he said, after a long pause.

Blaise sighed and stared into his beer once again. “I don’t know. Maybe a nice…...necklace or something.” He looked up at Draco. “Will you help me pick something out?”

“Sure,” said Draco. “If you help me get a wand for Dudley.”

********

It was a grey and windy afternoon, the week before Christmas. Dusk was already falling when Sev arrived at Madame Marple’s Magical Creche to pick up his son. Oakley was out back, riding on a swing shaped like a broomstick.

“Look at me fly, Papa!” he cried.

“I see you,” replied Sev, and he felt his face crack into a smile, at the sight of Oakley, joyful and free, soaring through the air.

“Push me Papa!” Oakley commanded.

Sev obediently set down his bag and started pushing Oakley in the swing.

“Push Delphi too!” Oakley cried.

So Sev pushed the dark haired little girl who was seated on an identical swing beside Oakley. The two children shrieked with delight.

“We’re flying! We’re flying!” cried Delphi.

“Higher, Papa! Higher!” Oakley yelled.

“Delphini!” a man called from across the yard. “Time to leave.”

Sev stopped pushing the children and turned to meet this stranger. He was tall and heavily built, not young, but not yet old. His blond hair was pushed back from his forehead and he had shockingly blue eyes. He wore a black cloak with a high collar and was, Sev realized with a start, extremely handsome.

The man waved his wand and the little girl's broomstick came to a stop with a jolt. “Come along Delphini,” he said. His voice had a trace of a German accent. “You are expected at home.”

“Are you Delphi’s father?” Sev asked.

“No,” the man replied. “I am her family's valet.” He extended his hand to Sev. “I am Eltanin Von Wold," he introduced himself.

“Severus Snape.”

“I know who you are,” the man replied, bluntly. He took the little girl by the hand. “Come along Delphini.”

“Bye, Delphi,” Oakley called as his swing also came to earth.

“Bye,” Delphi called, looking over her shoulder as the tall man led her away.

“I drawed a picture of Biscuit,” Oakley reported, clambering off the swing and taking Sev’s hand. “Wanna see it?”

“Yes, I do,” Sev replied, looking after the strange man, who was leaving by the front gate, leading the little girl to a carriage drawn by four black thestrals that was waiting in the road. He tucked Delphi inside, then sat on the driver’s seat and took up the reins. The thestrals trotted down the street, but when they got to the end of the road they took off into the air, and the dark carriage was lost among the clouds.

“Delphi says I can go play at her house some day,” Oakley announced. “Can I papa? Can I?”

“We’ll see,” Sev said, looking up into the clouds at the spot where the carriage had disappeared.

  
********

When Sev arrived home with Oakley, Remus was frying potato pancakes, and the kitchen was filled with the delicious, oily smell. Remus turned from the frying pan to kiss Sev, the bump so big now that they had to lean in a bit to reach each other. Then Remus squatted down to give Oakley a hug.

“How was preschool?” he asked.

“Good,” said Oakley. “I like that place. I drawed a picture of Biscuit.” The drawing which had been rolled up and fastened with a rubber band was unrolled and admired.

“Shall we hang it on the fridge?” suggested Remus.

The drawing was spellotaped to the already crowded gallery of children's artwork that covered the front of the coldbox.

“Go wash your hands and tell Gavin and Amanda to come downstairs,” Remus instructed. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

In the lounge the Christmas tree was glowing with colored lights. Remus and the children had spent many hours making decorations for it - stringing popcorn and cranberries, crafting ornaments of felt adorned with sequins and feathers from the pound store. They had baked gingerbread cookies to hang on the tree, and the whole house was redolent with the smell of cinnamon and pine.

Sev went over to where the old menorah stood on the mantel. It had belonged to his grandfather. He took four slender candles out of the box and set them in the brass candelabra.

It had been Remus’ idea to celebrate Hanukkah. “ _It’s part of your heritage,_ ” he had insisted, “ _and the children should know about it.”_ It was true that Sev’s father had been Jewish, and they had lit the menorah when he was a small child, when his grandfather had been alive. He did have fond memories of those evenings, the warm glow of the candles, the haunting melodies of the prayers, his grandfather’s wrinkled hands, trembling slightly as he lit the candles. His grandfather had been warm and loving with him, a circle of safety in the bitter anger and chaos that had defined his parents' marriage. 

After dinner they gathered around the menorah and Sev lit the shamus, the servant candle, with his wand. He handed it to each child in turn to light a candle. Three candles for the third night. Sev recited the ancient prayer, blessing the light.

“It’s beautiful,” whispered Amanda. Her eyes were glowing in the candlelight, her hair, sleek and shiny, framing her face. Sev saw the beautiful young woman she was growing into, and he felt his heart stir with pride and love. Gavin sat beside her, his eyes wide, Biscuit’s head in his lap. Oakley was curled on Remus' lap, his thumb in his mouth, struggling to stay awake. He had had a big day.

 _“This,_ ” thought Sev. “ _This moment. Somehow, we have come through everything, to this. This circle of light and love.”_ He reached over, and found Remus’ hand and squeezed it.

They made the children brush their teeth and tucked them in and a peacefulness descended on the house. It was snowing again. Sev went back downstairs to turn out lights, and check the locks and wards. His nightly ritual. He saved the Christmas tree for last. It shone brightly in the darkened lounge and he turned off the lights with a flick of his wand.

Upstairs Remus was reading in bed, and Sev started changing, standing before the wardrobe, shaking out his trousers and hanging them up, chucking his socks and underwear into the hamper  
.  
“What do you know of Eltanin Von Wold?” he asked Remus as he pulled on pajamas.

Remus looked up from his reading and shrugged. “Who’s he?”

“He picked up Oakley’s friend Delphi at school today.”

“Is he her father?”

“No, some kind of valet.”

“I don't know the name.”

“He’s european. German, I think.”

“Probably went to Durmstrang then. Eltanin is a star name. One of the eyes in the constellation Draco. And Von Wold means from the wood. What was he like?”

Sev got into bed beside Remus. “About our age. He definitely wasn’t British. He didn’t really seem like a servant. And you should have seen the carriage he drove away in.”

“Carriage?”

“Big and black. Four thestrals.”

“A bit showy.”

Sev nodded thoughtfully, thinking of the man with those piercing blue eyes, the hair swept back from his forehead, his cloak swirling around him as he led the little girl away.

“Was he hot?”

“What?” asked Sev, startled, and he felt a blush staining his cheeks.

Remus turned away from him. They felt this new problem settle between them, like a weight. The silence stretched on. Sev didn’t have any idea what to say. Remus reached over and turned out the light. And they both lay there in the dark.

At last Sev spoke “Remus it’s not…”

“It’s okay,” Remus cut him off. “I’m not exactly attractive these days anyway.”

“Oh….love,” said Sev and pulled him close and buried his nose in Remus’ neck, drank in the smell of him. “You’re attractive to me.”

“I’m as big as a house.”

“I love you like this, truly,” Sev murmured, stroking Remus’ admittedly swollen belly sensually, letting his hand linger, just above the pelvis, and he felt Remus relax into him, his breathing deepen. Sev kissed the back of his neck. “It’s really sexy, actually. And I loved tonight. The menorah, the children…. “ Sev stroked that fantastic belly, taught and pulsing with life and then slowly, further down to where Remus’ cock was stirring in response to his touch, hardening, reaching toward him. “You’re a fucking fertility god,” Sev breathed, feeling his own cock coming to life. He pushed into Remus’ backside, hard. “I love you.”

Remus gave a little whimper in reply and Sev knew he had him. At least for tonight, they belonged to each other and who, really, could want any more than that?


	11. Paris

Paris was very cold in December. The wind whipped off the Seine and people pulled their dark woolen coats close around themselves and hurried by without looking up. The river was an olive green with an oily sheen. The stores were brightly lit, and shining with Christmas lights, but Narcissa found them artificial and uninviting.

The Night Circus had set up in Parc Georges Valbon in Saint Denis, on the outskirts of the city center. A gritty park in a gritty neighborhood, where trash blew in the streets, and young men walked about in groups, wearing expensive sneakers they could not afford, their hoods pulled up over their heads.

Narcissa had been put in charge of the rat show - not exactly a job she relished. Spending hours in a stuffy tent, while Peter performed a series of tricks for sniveling children was a nightmare of tedium and boredom. Rodolphus had set up Lucius as his second in command, a kind of lieutenant, who kept track of employee’s hours and dealt with the hundreds of minor problems that came up in the day to day running of the circus. The two men spent hours together in the back of the snake charmer’s tent, drinking schnapps and talking, with Bella twined around her husband's shoulders, her dark tongue flickering, and Peter confined to a cage on his desk.

Narcissa didn’t really understand why Peter and Bella retained their animal forms. Whether it was out of fear of discovery or because of some kind of shock they had been through she could not ascertain. She did not much want to sit with her husband and Rodolphus, drinking and plotting, in the cluttered office. She feigned headaches and fatigue, and retired to the small caravan she and Lucius had been given as living quarters. It was outfitted with a tiny coal stove and she huddled beside it, and tried to read, or to think, often kept company by one of the many cats that had free rein of the place, and considered no space out of bounds to them.

One grey and windy day she took the metro to the Seventh Arrondissement. She sat on a bench in the Champ de Mars in the shadow of the Eiffel tower. The cold was keeping the tourists at bay, and Narcissa ignored the few vendors who approached her, staring them down with an icy glare that cowed even the most persistent. At last a woman in a grey cloak approached, and Narcissa rose, and hurried to meet her.

The woman paused and they stood a few feet apart, staring at each other.

“Andromeda?” Narcissa said at last.

“Hello, Narcissa.”

Narcissa stood speechless, overcome with emotion, there in the windy plaza under the Eiffel Tower. The last time she had seen Andromeda she had been little more than a girl, and Andromeda had been a beautiful young woman, fierce and full of defiance. She had left home to marry the man she loved and she had never looked back. Since that tearful goodbye, many years ago, they had only ever seen each other from a distance, and had never spoken.

Narcissa found it hard to reconcile the middle aged woman who stood before her with the young girl she remembered. The years showed on Andromeda, as she was sure they did on her. Andromeda was tall, but she had grown stout. Her grey hair was pulled back into a bun, and the lines etched on her face spoke of the losses she had suffered. Yet, she still held herself erect, proud and defiant as ever, and the look in her grey eyes was, as it always had been, one of steely determination. Seeing her sister, after all this time, Narcissa was overwhelmed by a feeling of loss, for all the years that had passed, the things they had not shared.

“It’s good to see you, Narcissa,” Andromeda said at last.

“You too,” said Narcissa, and she felt the hoarseness in her voice.

“Let’s get a drink,” said Andromeda.

They went to a small cafe and ordered aperitifs. The alcohol felt steadying. Narcissa looked at Andromeda’s care worn face, the lines around her eyes, and realized with a start that although her own life was hard, and lonely, and bitter with loss, it was nothing to her sister’s. Andromeda had lost everything.

“I’m sorry,” said Narcissa, stiffly, sipping the sweet green liquor in her glass. “About Ted. And….and your daughter.”

“Nymphadora,“ Andromeda supplied, and for a moment her eyes were far away. “Thank you. It’s been….. Difficult. I have been very alone, these past few years.”

“What of Draco?” asked Narcissa, her hunger to hear news of her son overwhelming everything else. “Do you ever see him?”

“I do, Narcissa. Not often, but I do have him round for supper occasionally. He is my nephew, after all, though I never knew him growing up, of course. And he was close to Dora at the end. He worked for her, you know during the war.”

“He did? I didn’t … know that.”

“Oh yes,” replied Andromeda. “He was a spy for the Order. They worked quite closely with each other. And he…..he was with her when she died. He’s….. A fine young man, Narcissa. You should be proud.”

“Is it true what they say?”

“What?”

“That he’s living with that Muggle boy? Lily Potter’s nephew? That they’re…. Lovers?”

Andromeda looked at her sister for a long moment, summing her up. At last she took Narcissa’s hand, which was cold as ice. She nodded solemnly once. “It is true,” she said softly. “They’re… I think that they’re very happy together.”

“And it’s true that he’s some kind of ward of Snape? That Snape took him in? That he spends… Christmas there? At that house of his? What was it called?”

“Spinner’s End.”

“That's right.” Narcissa shook her head. “I never thought that Snape, of all people, would turn out to be a blood traitor.”

“You should be grateful to Severus, Narcissa,” said Andromeda quietly. “He took an unbreakable vow to protect the boy, I believe. And he has done so, with admirable devotion. He got Draco out, Narcissa, out from under the thumb of That Bastard. He’s very likely the reason that Draco is alive today.”

Narcissa clutched the stem of her aperitif glass so hard she feared it would crack. She could not look her sister in the eye. Because it was true. Snape had done what she herself, Draco’s own mother, had lacked the courage to do. He had rescued her son from the evil sadist that they all had been in thrall to.

“Do you have a message for Draco?” asked Andromeda gently. “Anything you want me to tell him? He misses you, I’m sure he does.”

“I … tell him…. No.” Narcissa felt light headed, as if she might faint. “No, Andromeda. Don’t tell him anything. You mustn't tell him you’ve seen me.”

“I don’t think he would betray you.”

“It’s not… that. I just…. It wouldn’t be safe for him to contact me, or even know where I am. There are things afoot, Andromeda. It’s not over yet. And I can’t risk Draco getting caught up in any of that. Lucius yearns for the day that Draco returns to us, but he’s probably best off where he is. You…..you say he’s happy?”

“I believe that he is.”

“Then let him be Andy.” Andromeda smiled wryly as Narcissa slipped into using her childhood nickname. “Don’t tell him you saw me. Don’t tell him you know where I am. We'll be moving on in a few days, anyway. Never stay in one place for too long, these days…. “ She gave a dry bitter laugh. “But Andy?”

“Yes?”

“Look out for him a bit, will you? Just…I’d feel better if I thought you would.”

“Of course, Narcissa,” said Andromeda. “I already do.”

‘You do?”

“Of course I do,” said Andromeda. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know….I didn’t….”

“Cissy… I didn’t come here to fight with you,” Andromeda said. “You are the only family I have left in the whole world. You and Draco. I know we won't always agree….but I want to make it right between us… somehow.”

The silence between them was deep and heavy. Narcissa raised her glass to her lips,nervously, but when she caught a whiff of the sickly sweet liquid she put it down without tasting it.

“Me too,” she said at last.

Andromeda smiled at her, and she suddenly looked much younger. “Let's get something to eat, all right?” said Andromeda briskly. “You look like you could do with a meal. I hear the chicken here is very good.” Andromeda picked up a menu. “Remember when we were girls? That time we stole Bella's wand - she had just gotten it, right before she left for Hogwarts. She was so mad!”

Narcissa smiled then, too, for the first time. “Do you remember.that old tutor who used to come to the house. What was his name?” she said.

“Dionysius Doge,” supplied Andromeda.

“He smelled like old cheese. Merlin I hated him.”

“Remember the time you dipped all his quills in invisible ink?”

It was easy to talk like this, recollecting stories from their childhood that both of them had half forgotten The food came and it was very good and Andromeda ordered wine. As they left the cafe and went out into the chilly Paris evening, crowded with people rushing home to dinner, Narcissa’s heart was lighter than it had been for a long, long time.

********

A few days before Christmas, Draco met Blaise in Diagon Alley. They headed over to Madame Marilyn’s Magickal Variety. The small cozy shop was decked out for Christmas with sparkling fairy lights, pine fronds and little sugar plum fairies that flitted about the place, sprinkling fairy dust over everything. Snow was gently falling in a corner of the shop that was devoted to a tiny Christmas village. A toy steam engine that emitted real steam chugged and whistled around the crowded aisles of the little shop.

“What can I do for you, dears?” asked Madame Marilyn as they entered the little shop with a tinkle of the bell.

“We’re just ….looking,” said Blaise, embarrassed.

“Shopping for someone special?” asked Madame Marilyn, with a smile.

It wasn’t long before she had gotten out the trays of better jewelry from a locked case and Draco and Blaise were sorting through them.

“I can’t decide,'' said Blaise, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

“That one,” said Draco. He pointed to a moon pendant, enamelled in a deep azure and set with a clear aquamarine stone in the middle. “It’ll bring out the blue in her eyes.”

Blaise picked up the pendant and turned it over in his fingers thoughtfully. It was a lovely piece, carefully crafted, on a fine filigree chain.

“Yeah,“ he said, after contemplating it for a few moments. “It’s kind of like her, don’t you think? Luna, like the moon.”

“She’ll love it,” said Draco decisively.

“Now, what about something for your special lady, dear?” said Madam Marilyn, turning to Draco.

“That’s all right, “ said Draco. “I’ve got something else in mind for them. But I will take that toy train, if you’ll wrap it up for me. It’s perfect for my little brother.”

********

After they were done with Madame Marilyn’s they crossed the street to Ollivander’s. The narrow shop was empty except for a spindly chair and rows upon rows of flat boxes, stacked neatly behind the counter. Draco rang the bell and after a few minutes of shuffling about in the back, Mr. Ollivander appeared.

He seemed more wispy and insubstantial than ever, his silvery eyes glowing in the low light of the shop.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he said, with a slightly obsequious bow of his head. “Mr Zabini. What can I do for you, young gentleman? No difficulties with your wands, I trust.”

“No,” replied Draco. “I want to buy a wand….. For a friend.”

“A friend,” said Mr. Ollivander. “That’s a rather unusual request, young man. The wand chooses the wizard, you know. I can’t properly fit someone for a wand if they are not here.”

“It’s … a gift,” said Draco. “A Christmas gift.”

“And, not to pry,” Mr. Ollivander continued. “But why would your friend need a wand? Didn’t his parents buy him one when he started school? Or is it a replacement? Again, without the wizard present I cannot guarantee a proper fit.”

Draco stood and stared at Mr Ollivander. He felt his temper flaring. A puff of steam rose from the shopping bag he held in his hand and the train he had purchased for Oakley gave a low whistle.

“What about your return policy?” Blaise jumped in. “Couldn’t you sell us a kind of … an all purpose wand…. ? Something good for a beginner who’s had a late start at magic, a Muggle born. Then, if it doesn’t work out, he could come in and exchange it, get a proper fit.”

“An unusual request….” said Mr. Ollivander, again, half under his breath. “Of course for you, Mr. Malfoy….” He turned and started perusing the wall of boxes behind the counter, muttering under his breath. “Hmmm…...unicorn hair and walnut, thirteen inches, no….. a bit too stiff for a beginner…...Something springy…...How about this?…...redwood and phoenix feather… nine inches….. A bit fickle, I fear…… Ah! now this…. This might do…..Oak and dragon heartstring…...Good for the pure of heart…..Is your friend pure of heart, Mr Malfoy?”

“What?” said Draco, startled to be addressed directly.

“Pure of heart, Mr. Malfoy. Is your friend pure of heart?”

“Very,“ replied Draco, thinking of Dudley’s heart pounding in his chest as he held him close.

“Eleven inches, a bit springy,” said Mr. Ollivander. “A good wand for a beginner, I should think.”

“We’ll take it,” said Blaise.

“Very well,” replied Mr. Ollivander. “Seventeen galleons, please, Mr. Malfoy.” He replaced the wand in its narrow box, and started to wrap it in brown paper, while the train in Draco’s bag gave another low whistle.

********

They made their way through the snowy streets to the Leaky Cauldron, where they found a table in the back of the crowded pub. They ordered lagers and burgers to reward themselves for a successful mission. Draco felt pleased. He was looking forward to giving Dudley his wand.

Their food arrived and they both tucked in hungrily. Around them the busy pub buzzed with the excited chatter of last minute shoppers.

“When’re you gonna give Dudley his wand?” asked Blaise.

“Not sure yet,'' said Draco. “Christmas morning, probably. We’re supposed to go to Lupin and Snape’s for dinner on Christmas Eve.”

“Christmas Eve at Spinner's End?” said Blaise.

“It’s become kind of a tradition,” said Draco.

“Draco,” said Blaise. “There’s something I want to ask you about.”

“What is it?” asked Draco, looking up at Blaise, who seemed suddenly very serious.

“It’s ...something’s happened.”

“What?”

Blaise reached into his coat pocket and produced a rolled scroll. It was a letter from his parents. He handed it to Draco, who read it silently.

“Shit,” he said when he had finished reading.

“Yeah,” said Blaise. “Exactly. What do I do?”

Draco shook his head, and looked over the letter again.

“What do you want to do?”

“Well, I don’t want to go to fucking France and join their psycho revolution,” said Blaise.

“That’s good.”

“But it hurts, you know. Why can’t they just give it up already? Why can’t they see that it's all a load of…….. of hippogryph dung?”

“Because to them, it isn’t. It's the way they want the world to be. That won’t change.”

Blaise stared glumly into his beer.

“Blaise,” Draco said cautiously.

“Yeah?”

“Someone should know about this. Someone in the Order.”

“That’s what Luna says.”

“Yeah.”

Blaise looked right at Draco. “What would you do?” he asked hoarsely.

Draco shook his head. What would he do if he got a letter like this? Would he betray his parents? Everything his family stood for?

“We fought in that damn war,” Draco said, slowly, thinking aloud. “We're lucky we weren’t killed. And next time… next time we might be.” A vision of the Battle of Hogwarts flashed before his eyes, how terrified he had been that Dudley would be killed, how helpless he had felt to protect him. He shuddered. “I don’t want another war. We should nip this in the bud. We should take this to Lupin and Snape.”

Blaise was staring at his beer again. After a few moments, Draco handed him back the letter. He read it over one more time, then folded it and put it back in his pocket.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, and ordered another lager.


	12. The Catacombs

It was the night of the solstice, the shortest night of the year. In the catacombs, deep under the streets of Paris, Narcissa pulled her wool cloak tighter around herself and shivered as she hurried behind Lucius. His wand illuminated the walls of the dark passageway, which were lined with bones; stacks and stacks, hundreds of thousands of bones, the skulls arranged neatly in rows.

Lucius paused where the bones formed a symbol. A circle, inside a triangle, bisected by a vertical line. He dug in his pocket, pulled out a scrap of parchment, read it and handed it to Narcissa. She saw the words scrawled in a rough hand.

“ _He returns,_ “ Lucius whispered, and a wooden doorway appeared in the wall of bones and swung open. It disappeared the moment he entered. Drawing a deep breath, Narcissa recited the words which she had seen written down and the magical door appeared once again and granted her entry to a long chamber.

In this room, too, the walls were lined with bones - femurs, tibias, radii, stacked one on top of the other, interspersed with rows and rows of skulls, hollow eyed and leering, arranged in an artistic pattern by an ancient, morbid hand. Rodolphus was already there, sitting at the head of a long table. Beside him was Bellatrix, returned to human form, her dark eyes glittering under heavy lids, her hair a ragged mass around her head. On Rodolphus’ right sat a man she did not know. Seated beside him was Pettigrew, watery eyed and sharp faced as she remembered him.

“Cissssy.” Bellatrix rose, and approached Narcissa, and pecked her lightly on the cheek. Narcissa heard the hiss of the snake in her words. “I have missssed you.”

“Bella,” Narcissa said, taken aback. “It’s…. Good to see you…..”

There were others seated around the table. Many faces Narcissa recognized, but some she did not. Capricia Zabini was there, gorgeous as always, bedecked with jewels and seated beside a man Narcissa assumed to be her latest in a long line of husbands. Thorfinn Rowell was there, looking squat and menacing. She saw Travers, Dolohov and Avery. Gunther Goyle was there with his young son Gregory, who had been friends with Draco at school. Gregory sat with a group of young men that Narcissa did not know, although several of them wore Durmstrang badges on their robes. Seeing them, Narcissa was pierced with a yearning for Draco so intense she thought for a moment she might faint.

“Attention please.” Rodolphus rapped on the table. “I have gathered you together, loyalists to the true cause, the one great cause. Over three years ago now we suffered a great defeat. But the story is not over and we will rise again, my friends, we will rise again.”

“Rise again,” the assembled repeated solemnly and raised their fists into the air. Narcissa raised her fist and chanted the phrase, along with the others.

Rodolphus looked around, his small white teeth gleaming in the low light. “Here in this tomb, under this great glittering Muggle city, surrounded by the bones of thousands, we will make history. Those of you who have assembled here will not forget this night, for it marks the beginning of our great resurgence.” He looked around the room, with satisfaction. _No wonder he bought a circus,_ thought Narcissa. _He’s a born showman._

“Many of you know each other, though there are a few newcomers to our circle. Most especially, I would like to introduce a very special guest tonight. It is my honor to introduce Cadmus Grindelwald, son of the late, great Gellert Gridelwald, a man who, throughout his life, sought to uphold the supremacy of the Wizarding race, for the greater good.”

The man beside Rodolphus stood. He was a powerful looking man, in the prime of middle age. His features were heavy, his blond hair cropped short, his eyes a pale, almost unnatural blue. He wore an emblem suspended from a chain around his neck, the same one that had been etched into the stone wall that marked the entrance to this place. A circle inside a triangle, bisected by a single line. When he spoke, his English was heavily accented.

“You haff, I am sure, heard of my _famous_ father… “ There was a slight pejorative accent on the word famous, Narcissa noted. “He rose to great glory and then died in disgrace, his ideas maligned. But what many do not know is that my father had three sons, of which I am the middle brother. We were raised to carry on the great legacy of my father’s work. For the greater good. For the ideal that wizards shall some day rise to their proper place as the leaders of men, stop cowering in the shadows, our powers curtailed by the idiotic International Statute of Secrecy. That we will live free and unfettered, taking our rightful place - leading the weak, the non magical, who are our clear inferiors.

“Your Dark Lord was a great man, a heroic man, and all of us around the world, those that shared his vision, feel his loss most keenly. Yet there is hope. Much hope. There is a way forward! There are many of us, throughout the International Wizarding Community, who support you, and will cleave with you as brothers as we work together, for the greater good.

“My father Gellert Gridelwald, was a brilliant man, as many of you know. In his youth, he befriended Albus Dumbledore and the two made an in depth study of the mysterious Deathly Hallows. Later, many years after the two men parted, my father married, and raised a family. He had three sons, and named us after the three brothers in the Tale of the Deathly Hallows. I am the middle son and my destiny is the resurrection stone itself! Yes, my father named me Cadmus, after the middle brother in the story, and like him, I seek the stone. If we can find all three Hallows, the wand, the stone and the cloak we three brothers, united, shall be the Masters of Death!”

His pale eyes were shining in the darkened room. He held out his wand. _“Escriptus!_ ” he cried. A red light emanated from the wand. He started to draw, in glowing red light that hung in the air. First he drew a single vertical line. “The elder wand!” he cried. “The deathstick - an unbeatable wand! We know where it is. It lies at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, entombed with the late Albus Dumbledore - clutched in his cold hands -useless! But it is ripe for the picking.”

He drew a triangle around the upright line and the red light of the image quivered in the air. “The cloak of invisibility!” he cried. “This, too, we know the location of. It is owned by Harry Potter, that infamous young man who defeated your Dark Lord at the Battle of Hogwarts. It has been handed down through his family through the generations, and we believe he still has it in his possession.”

He drew a circle inside the triangle. “The resurrection stone!" he shouted. “The stone that will bring back the dead! The location of this is unknown, although it is rumoured that Albus Dumbledore may have come into possession of it. In fact, some have theorized that it was the stone that gave him the crippling curse that tormented him in the last year of his life. But what has become of the stone we do not know.

“He who unites all three objects becomes the Master of Death!” Cadmus Grindelwald cried. “And, once we have mastered death - perhaps- just perhaps - your Dark Lord can be resurrected.”

“There isss more” said Bellatrix, standing. Her voice was raspy and unused, but the old fire and arrogance were in her eyes. “In those years between the Dark Lord’s second coming and his demise, we became close. Exssstremely close. Ssso close that I was able to bear him a child. A daughter. A beautiful baby girl. Rodolphusss agreed to this gladly, as a show of our great love for our master. When I was nearly killed in the battle of Hogwarts, Rodolphus found a safe place for the child, and she lives, and thrives. The Dark Lord’s daughter - heiresss to all that we work for - a leader for the future! She lives, I tell you! She livessss!“ Bellatrix raised her arm, in which she clutched a wand. “ _Morsmordre!_ ” she cried in a hoarse voice and the dark mark erupted from her wand and hung, green and glittering above them, the skull with blank eyes, just like the skulls all around them, the snake twining from it’s open mouth.

“He will rise!” Bella cried, her voice breaking with passion.

“He will rise!” the assembled replied in unison, fists in the air.

Rodophus now stood beside his wife, and touched her cheek. “My beloved Bella,” he said. “It is so good to have you back with us again.”

“There is much to do,” Rodolphus said,turning his attention to the group assembled before him.  
“In our days of glory we fomented unrest amongst the Muggles, led brilliantly by Thorfinn Rowell. Thorfinn, we must take up this task again. It is only by encouraging the Muggles to strife and conflict, fanning their natural predisposition to violence against each other, that they will reduce their numbers and we will prevail.”

Thorfinn stood, his bald head gleaming, every inch a thug. “Yeah,” he said, with a lazy leer. “We can get that going again, most like.” And he sat down once again.

“There is another here, who can be of help,” said Rodolphus. A small man at the end of the table stood and Narcissa recognized him as Dionysius Cutler, the physician who had been instrumental in the raising of inferi during the last war, and who had also been experimenting with breeding werewolves. He cleared his throat nervously and pushed his glasses up on his nose, rubbed his palm over his thinning hair. Narcissa shuddered. She had always found Dr. Cutler a bit creepy.

He spoke in a wavery, uncertain voice. “Unfortunately, all of the inferi that we raised last time have been captured and destroyed by the Ministry. However there is nothing to prevent us from creating a new army of the dead. There is no shortage of bodies, I can guarantee that.“ He laughed nervously at his own joke. The room responded with silence. Dr. Cutler licked his lips and went on. “The dementors are scattered but once we start amassing our forces we can draw them out of hiding to join with us. And I am negotiating with an old associate, the werewolf, Fenrir Greyback, in the hopes that he and his kind will once again join our cause.”

“All this is good,” said Rodolphus. “But we need human recruits. Speak to the others that you may know. Write to your sons and daughters who may believe that the true cause is lost and let them know that there is hope. Gunther’s son, Gregory is already here, I see, and I know that Cappricia has already written to her son, Blaise, in an effort to recruit him. And Lucius, might your son join us?”

“It is the most fervent wish of my heart,“ Lucius replied, with passion. "We will work on it, Rodolphus. Perhaps when he sees his friends among us…..” and Lucius trailed off, looking guilty, as if he had revealed too much.

“There is one man who may be able to help us,” Pettigrew said timidly into the awkward silence, rising from his seat. His arm, made of silver, glimmered in the low light of the tomb.

“Who is that Peter?” said Rodolphus, smiling at him indulgently, as one would a child.

“Xenophilius Lovegood, sir,” replied Peter. He made a gesture to the side of his face, as if he were pulling whiskers that were not there. “His daughter Luna was our prisoner at Malfoy Manor, during the war. Well, she was a talker, that one. She’d go on and on about all manner of things, most of it hippogryph dung. But I did hear her talk about the Deathly Hallows. Her father believed in them, you see. Made quite a study of them, according to the girl.”

“That is information that could be useful, Peter,” replied Rodolphus. “I believe the man’s loyalty to the current administration is somewhat questionable. Didn’t he try to turn Harry Potter in, in exchange for his daughter?”

“That’s right,” spoke up Travers in a gruff voice. “I was there. Lovegood called the MLE, and Selwyn and I got sent round to his place. He had Potter there, too, or a good imitation. Had that mudblood girlfriend of his with him. Granger. Saw them with my own eyes, but they got away. Apparated away from right under our noses.”

“Wasn’t Ollivander in the cell with the Lovegood girl?” asked Dolotov.

“Indeed he was,'' Lucius responded.

“His knowledge of wandlore could be most useful, if it is truly the Elder Wand we seek. He will have to be questioned.”

“Kidnap him?” Suggested Rowle, with enthusiasm “I could……”

“No, I think a more discrete approach would be best, at least for now,” Rodolphus interrupted him. “I shall think about how best to deal with Mr. Ollivander.”

“Now,” said Bellatrix, her eyes glittering and the maniacal smile that Narcissa knew so well on her face. _She’s still crazy,_ Narcissa thought. Then Bella looked right into her eyes, and she remembered her sister’s talent with legilimency, and shut that thought away. “An unbreakable vow, I think, for those who are here tonight,” Bella said.

“Yes,” Rodolphus said. “We shall be as brothers and sisters, united in our fervent desire for a world where Wizards reign supreme, where Muggles are humbled and kept in their place. United, always, in the hope that the Dark Lord may rise again!”

“Rise again!” cried Rowle, lumbering to his feet and raising his fist in the air.

“Rise again,” cried Lucius, standing. All around her, the assembled witches and wizards were rising. There was a scraping of chairs, a shuffling of robes as one after another people stood, fists in the air.

Narcissa, of course, did the same.

And then an orange flame was emanating from Bella's wand, snakes of fire that wound their way around the wrist of every person in the room, ensnaring them together, in a kind of web. Narcissa felt the burn of the fire around her wrist and knew she was trapped. Whatever vow Bella had in mind she would have to take it.

When the rope of orange flame had wound its way around the room, so that every single person there was bound to every other one, Bella turned to her husband.

“Rodolphuss!” Bella said. “Will you be our binder?”

“Of course, my love,” he replied.

Bella’s face was heavily shadowed in the orange light of the flame. She closed her eyes, and spoke. “All those assembled here tonight shall be as one. Brotherss and sisterss all, we sswear to keep the ssecretss revealed in this tomb tonight. We sswear to work for the rise of the Death Eaters, once again, and the rise of wizarding supremacy throughout the world!”

“We will!” came the reply. Narcissa moved her lips, but did not say the words, and wondered if this would be enough to keep the spell from binding her.

“So be it ssworn,” said Bella with great satisfaction.

“So be it sworn,” the assembled responded as one.

“So be it bound, “said Rodolphus. He touched the orange flame with his wand and the ropes of fire dissipated into thin air.


	13. Christmas Eve at Spinner's End

It was the morning of Christmas Eve and Remus was feeling a bit frantic. There was simply too much to do. The boys were done with school and hanging about the house, bored, their pent up energy a palpable thing, like a demiguise under the sofa. Amanda was moping about, complaining that she had a stomach ache. Biscuit peed the rug. There was a rush of last minute orders for Mr. Moony’s Magickal Mistletoe, always a popular item (it was _“Magically enhanced for guaranteed romance,”_ as the advert claimed). Which was good for business, except that he was short on owls and worried that he wouldn’t get all the orders to the customers on time.

And, of course, through the rush and tumble of it all he was heavily pregnant, the baby moving restlessly inside him, pushing on his ribs, his bladder. He limited himself to one cup of tea in the morning, but he still had to pee every fifteen minutes. He was hungry, but when he stopped to eat, it felt as if there was no room inside him for the food. He felt unbalanced, his massive belly pulling him ever forward. His back ached, his ankles were swollen. Sev told him he was glorious, a miracle of nature. Well, Remus had never quite been able to understand the man’s tastes. But he himself felt like an aberration, a bloated rhino, a puffed up cream cake, left too long in the sun.

Life however, with its many demands, must go on. Although Remus felt that all he wanted to do was curl up by the fire with a good book and a cup of tea, he persevered. In the morning he baked gingerbread men and set the boys to decorating them. He waddled out to the greenhouse, through the snowy garden, feeling awkward and heavy, and tended to the orders, packaging mistletoe and sending off owls. When he got back to the kitchen it looked as if a tornado had gone off. Frosting and sprinkles were everywhere. The decorated gingerbread biscuits sat on a tray, winking and waving. The boys were in the lounge, tussling with Biscuit. Remus ignored the mess for now and set the peeler to work on the potatoes with his wand. He was just putting the turkey in the oven when he heard a tinkle of broken glass.

“Moony?” Oakley stood at the kitchen door, looking chagrined. “Biscuit broked an normament.”

“Let me see,” said Remus, heading out to the lounge.

It was one of the silvery glass balls left over from Sev’s childhood. They all looked at the slivers of broken glass, lying sadly on the threadbare carpet.

“It wasn’t his fault,” said Gavin defensively. “He’s just a puppy.”

“It’s all right,” said Remus. “I can fix it.” He reached inside his robes for his wand.

“Let me try!” said Gavin.

“All right," said Remus, smiling at his enthusiasm. He handed Gavin his wand. “Give it a go.”

Gavin looked startled, as though he hadn’t really expected this. He held the wand tentatively between his fingers. “Hold it firmly,” Remus instructed. “And concentrate. Try to visualize the object before it was broken. That helps. Do you remember the incantation?”

Gavin nodded solemnly.

“Stand up nice and tall,” Remus coached. “And say it like you mean it.”

Gavin squeezed his eyes shut, all sincerity and concentration, and Remus smiled. Oakley stood and watched, wide eyed. Gavin opened his eyes. He pointed Remus’ wand at the broken ornament. _“Reparo!_ ” he shouted.

They all watched as the pieces of the broken ornament mended themselves back together. Kind of. There were a couple of bits that were stuck on at odd angles, and a large crack down the middle where the pieces hadn’t come together properly. It looked as if it had been glued back together, rather badly, by a Muggle.

“Well done,” said Remus. “You did it.”

Gavin grinned, and handed Remus back his wand. Remus wafted the repaired ornament back onto the tree, where it shone and sparkled in its imperfect beauty.

“Aren't you going to fix it properly?” Gavin asked.

“No,” said Remus. “Let’s leave it to show Mr. Sev. And some day, when you have kids of your own, it will make a good story to tell, don’t you think? Gavin’s first spell.” Gavin grinned again. “Now come out to the kitchen you two and help clean up the mess you made. And then I’m kicking you all out to play in the snow.”

He started heading back to the kitchen, but was stopped by Gavin who threw his arms around him in a quick hug.

********

Sev was supposed to work until noon, but he didn’t get home until almost two o’clock. He entered the kitchen smelling of snow, bearing a bottle of firewhiskey and several mysterious packages.

“There you are,” said Remus tightly.

“Merry Christmas!” Sev said happily. He moved to grab him, planting a kiss on his cheek but Remus pulled away bristling with irritation.

“We’ll never have everything ready before the guests arrive.”

“Does it really matter?”

“It matters to me.”

“It's Christmas,” Sev said. “Let’s try to relax and enjoy the day, all right?”

“Easy for you to say,” said Remus, with resentment. “I've been cooking and cleaning and dealing with kids since early this morning, and we’re not nearly ready for tonight. And then you come waltzing in here, nearly two hours late…”

“I had to finish my Christmas shopping,” said Sev, lamely.

He was interrupted by a thud from the lounge, followed by a sharp bark from Biscuit and a wail from Oakley.

“See to him, will you?” said Remus shortly.

He went to tend to Oakley who had fallen and bumped his knee. He was soon soothed with a hug and a ginger biscuit, then Sev went back to the kitchen where Remus was mashing potatoes with a desperate kind of ferociousness. Sev grabbed him from behind and buried his face in his hair.

“What can I do to help?”

So Sev was set to work cleaning the bathroom, hanging the mistletoe, making the salad and stirring the punch. He went into the living room, and used his wand to tidy away the debris left by the children. He tapped the ancient carpet sweeper and set it to work on the threadbare rug. Then went back to the kitchen where Remus was putting the finishing touches on the meal.

“What else?” he asked.

Remus shrugged and smiled a tired smile. “I think we’re all right,” he said. “Sorry I was a bit shrewy earlier.”

“It’s fine,” said Sev. “Why don’t you go lie down for half an hour? You're nearly nine months pregnant.”

Remus sighed and put a hand on his belly, and smiled to himself. “Maybe I should,'' he said.

Just as he was turning to go into the lounge Amanda appeared at the kitchen door, her face streaked with tears.

“Amanda,” said Remus. “What’s wrong?''

“Oh Mr. Moony!” she said. “I think I just got my period!”

“Oh dear!” said Remus.

********

They owled Ginny, who arrived half an hour later with a box of pads, a bottle of muggle aspirin and a pint of ice cream. The two girls sequestered themselves in Amanda’s tiny attic bedroom.

Amanda showed Ginny her stained knickers. “Just bin them,” Ginny suggested. She made Amanda take a shower and then introduced her to the mysteries of pads and tapes. “Katie Bell had to explain it all to me,” Ginny confided.

“What about your mum?” asked Amanda.

Ginny pried the lid off the carton of ice cream. “She was too embarrassed, I guess. Or maybe she just didn’t think of it. By the time I came along she was so used to boys.…” Ginny’s voice trailed off and she handed Amanda a spoon and the carton.

“Here,” she said. “Tuck in.”

They stayed upstairs, lying on Amanda’s bed, chatting and eating ice cream while darkness fell outside.

"Who do you like?" asked Ginny, taking a large spoonful of ice cream from the carton.

Amanda thought of the boys in her year. "All the boys just seem - I dunno - kind of stupid?" 

Ginny nodded and passed her the carton. "Give them a few years," she said.

“I wish I was popular…..like you were,” Amanda said shyly.

Ginny shrugged. “I wasn’t always popular,'' she said. “Second year, I was downright dweeby.”

“You were a Quidditch star, you dated Harry,” Amanda said, ticking off Ginny’s assets. “You’re.....beautiful….”

“You're beautiful too, Amanda.” Ginny reached over and grabbed a handful of Amanda’s hair and turned it over in her hand. “Look at your hair, it's so thick and it's a great color.”

“Brown,” said Amanda glumly.

“More like chestnut. What kind of conditioner are you using?”

Amanda shrugged. “Whatever Mr. Moony buys.”

“You’ve got to get Sleakeazy’s Hair Tonic. It’s the best.” Ginny cocked her head and eyeballed Amanda critically. “What about changing your part?”

“My part?” said Amanda touching the top of her head gingerly with her fingertips.

“Wait a second.” Ginny reached for her wand. Amanda felt a warm tingle starting on the top of her head and radiating down to the ends of her hair.

“There,” Ginny said, looking her over with satisfaction. “What do you think of that?“ They went over to Amanda's mirror, hung over her cluttered dresser and peered into it. Ginny had changed her part to the side, and smoothed Amanda's thick brown hair to a glossy sheen.

“Wait a minute!” Ginny said, digging in her bag. “I’ve got some lip gloss somewhere!” She handed the tiny tub to Amanda, who put a little on her lips, feeling foolish and excited at the same time.

“Look at yourself now,” Ginny said.

Amanda looked in the mirror, Her hair was smooth and shining and the lip gloss accentuated her full lips. She puckered her mouth, and giggled. “I feel silly!” she said.

“Well you look great!” Ginny declared. “Now get dressed and let’s go join the party.”

“Thanks for helping me, Ginny,“ said Amanda. She threw her arms around the older girl and hugged her.

“It’s okay,” Ginny said. “It was a good excuse to get away from Mum for a little while. She was driving me crazy. All she wants to do is talk about wedding plans.”

There was a persistent knock at the window, and Amanda went to open it. A snowball, magically suspended, hovered outside.

She looked down. She saw Harry and Draco, Hermione and Ron, Dudley, Gavin and Oakley. Snow forts had been built. Snowballs were flying. Biscuit was running about in circles, yapping excitedly.

“C’mon down!” called Harry, his face shining with fun. “Snowball fight!”

Amanda grabbed the charmed snowball and threw it down at him. It landed with a satisfying thwock, right on the top of his head.

And Amanda could never tell Ginny, but she just wished that she could meet a boy just like Harry.

********

Outside the snow ball fight raged. Inside, the house sparkled with cleanliness, the tree shone brightly. The radio was tuned to the Muggle Christmas music that Remus loved. With a sigh, he sank down into the threadbare sofa. Sev came over and brought him a glass of punch.

“I shouldn’t,” murmured Remus. “The baby.”

“One glass won’t hurt her. It's Christmas.”

“All right.” Remus took the glass from Sev and drank. It was delicious. All of Sev’s skills as a potion maker had gone into the brewing of the punch. It was redolent with lemon, honey and spices, blending perfectly with a generous amount of firewhiskey. Sev sat down beside him and Remus curled against him like a cat. Sev put an arm around him and planted a kiss on the top of his head.

“Not bad, Lupin,” he remarked.

“No,” Remus replied. “Not bad at all.”

They sat for a few minutes, relishing the peace of it all. Then they heard wailing from the back door, and Oakley tumbled into the kitchen.

Sev was up in an instant. He knelt on the kitchen floor and put his arms around the little boy, who was blubbering loudly. “There, there,” he said, patting his back. “Shush. It's all right. Hush now, little mite.”

At last Oakley's tears subsided and he looked up, his brown eyes, so like Remus, shining with tears, his face red from crying and from the cold.

“What happened?” Sev asked, brushing away the tears.

Oakley sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve.

“Accio kleenex,” Sev said, and a box of tissues came sailing across the kitchen. “Here, blow,” he commanded, holding one up to Oakley’s snotty nose.

Oakley blew. “I gotted cold but no one wanted to come in,” he complained. “And then I got hitted in the head with a snowball.”

Sev hugged him close. “That can really hurt,” he empathized.

Oakley nodded seriously. “Yes,” he agreed. “It can really hurt.”

“Let’s get you out of your snowy things, okay?” Sev suggested. “It’s nearly time to eat.”

Oakley had snow down his boots and up his sleeves and plastered on the inside of his hood. Sev hung the dripping clothing in the downstairs toilet and was just in the process of using his wand to clean up the tracked in snow that was melting in puddles all over the clean kitchen floor, when the doorbell rang.

It was the Dursleys, looking uncomfortable as always. They came every Christmas Eve, though.

“Dudders here?” asked Vernon at once. He looked unwell, Sev thought. He had always been paunchy but he seemed heavier, more sunken in. His eyes were red, as if he’d already been drinking. Petunia, drawn and nervous looking as always, greeted him with a dry peck on the cheek.

“They’re all out back having a snowball fight,” said Remus. Sev fetched them glasses of punch, and Remus went to tend to the turkey. A few minutes later the snow ballers trooped in, filling the house with laughter and chatter and an enormous mound of wet coats. Sev served more punch and cleaned up more piles of melting snow. The doorbell rang again and Minerva McGonagall arrived, bearing a bottle of currant wine, which Sev gallantly opened with a loud pop. He was glad he had thought to invite Minerva, and glad she had accepted his invitation.

“Where’s Dad?” said Gavin, looking around.

Amanda and Gavin’s father, Tim, was a regular fixture at these events.

“He’ll probably be along soon,” said Remus, soothingly. His eyes met Sev’s for a moment, and Sev knew they were both thinking the same thing. Tim had probably stopped at the pub on the way, and lost track of the time.

“Let’s eat!” said Remus.

It was a glorious meal, turkey, with all the fixings and a flaming plum pudding for desert. Afterwards, properly stuffed, they sat around in the lounge, digesting contentedly, playing Exploding Snap and Gobstones, and Snakes and Ladders, for Oakley. Tim did show up eventually, stumbling a bit, but Amanda and Gavin were very glad to see him nonetheless. Sev seated him on the sofa, with a cup of strong tea, and Amanda and Gavin gathered on either side of him, full of chatter about their lives.

Suddenly there was the sound of a scuffle coming from the front foyer, where the mistletoe was hung.

“Stop, Ron!” they heard Hermione say.

“I just thought…”

“Not now!”

The sound of the door opening and slamming shut. Ron came back into the room, looking chagrined. He sat down by the hearth and stared morosely into the fire.

After a few minutes, Draco slipped out into the front hall and quietly opened the door. He found Hermione, sitting on the front step, her arms clasped around her knees.

He sat down beside her, on the cold stoop. Neither of them said anything.

“I suppose I was being stupid,” Hermione said at last.

“No,” said Draco. “Not if that’s the way you feel.”

“It’s just….He can be so….. annoying sometimes, you know?”

Draco nodded. He did know, actually. He had never quite understood what Hermione saw in Ron.

Hermione shivered and pulled her arms more tightly around herself.

“You’re cold,” Draco said.

“I don’t want to go back in there,” Hermione said.

“Want me to get your coat?” Draco offered.

Hermione sighed, then shook herself and stood up. “No,” she said, looking up at the sky. “If I flounce off in a huff it’ll just make it worse.”

“You don’t have to stay with him,” Draco said, also looking at the sky. The lights of the town were staining the cloudy sky with an orange glow.

“It’s….complicated.” replied Hermione.

“I’m sure it is.”

“Thanks for coming out and talking to me, Draco,” she said. And she opened the door and went back inside.


	14. Later That Night

The Dursleys left early, after extracting a promise from Dudley and Draco to come round for Christmas lunch the next day, and Minerva left soon after that. Ted fell asleep in the chair by the fire. Oakley grew cranky, and Sev scooped him up, and carried him upstairs, reminding him that Father Christmas would not come unless he was asleep. He stood beside the little boy while he brushed his teeth, helped him into his pajamas with the decals of broomsticks and quaffles, and tucked him into his bed in the boys room.

“Father Christmas won’t come until Gavin's asleep,'' Oakley protested, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“He’ll go to sleep soon,” Sev said.

“And Biscuit,” Oakley reminded Sev.

“Yes,” Sev agreed, “Biscuit will go to sleep soon too.”

“Will Father Christmas go to Delphi’s house?”

“He goes to all good little children’s houses.”

“How does he do it?” Oakley wondered sleepily.

“Nobody knows,” Sev replied. “He does it with love.”

“Sing me a song,” Oakley demanded, snuggling down further under the covers, his plush broomstick clutched in his arms.

Sev never would have imagined himself as a singer of lullabies but, strangely, now he was. He had started to sing to Oakley in the womb, and had continued through nights of walking him during bouts of colic, and had never stopped. So now, he sang, half remembered melodies from his own childhood, old Yiddish tunes his Grandfather had hummed in the greenhouse, with words he made up himself. He stroked the little boy’s back and he sang, and soon Oakley’s eyes drifted shut and he was asleep, his lashes dark against his soft cheek. Sev kissed him, and set the nightlight to rotating gently.

Downstairs Remus was tidying the kitchen. The house was quiet. The radio was playing softly, a jazzy tune. Outside it had started to snow.

“Where is everybody?”

“Out in the greenhouse.”

“Gav and Amanda too?”

Remus shrugged. “They’re growing up, Sev.” Remus put his arms around him, and started dancing him slowly, around the room.

Sev wasn’t much for dancing, but Remus had been gradually breaking him down, catching him at odd moments, and making him dance, guiding him with gentle touches, teaching him with teasing instructions. Now, he relaxed, Remus’ head resting against his shoulder, the bump pressed between them, like a promise. He relaxed into the music, the moment, the unlikely happiness of it all.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, and looked into Remus’ eyes, and kissed him.

********

  
Out in the greenhouse a coal fire glowed cherry red in the little pot bellied stove. Hermione and Ron had left early, but everyone else sat around in broken chairs or on overturned boxes or bags of compost. Dudley and Draco were smoking cigarettes, which was, Gavin guessed, the reason they’d guided the party out here. There was a pot of cocoa, charmed to stay hot, and Gavin noticed a bottle being passed around.

“Can I have some?” he asked saucily, watching as Harry tipped the firewhiskey into his mug of cocoa.

Draco looked him over. He seemed to be the one in charge of the whiskey. He shook his head. “No,” he said, “Not until you reach puberty. Amanda can have a taste, though.”

Amanda, wide eyed, held out her cup and Draco poured in a little bit. She took a sip and winced.

“Why do you like this stuff?” she asked, and everyone laughed.

Gavin curled up on the ground with his back against a bag of dragon dung. Biscuit came and joined him, putting his head in Gavin's lap, rolling over and whining until Gav scratched his belly. He listened lazily to the chatter swirling above him, mostly Quidditch talk and gossip. Everyone seemed relaxed and content. Amanda, perched on a broken wicker chair, listened wide-eyed, and Gavin knew she was excited to be included with the older ones. He noticed she kept taking little sips of her cocoa with firewhiskey. Gavin felt sleepy and a little bored. He was very nearly drifting off, when the conversation turned to something he was actually interested in.

“How does it work then?” Amanda asked.

“Well, Amanda,” said Ginny. “When two people love each other very much, mummy gives daddy a special hug, and…….” She erupted into giggles.

“I know how it works with a man and a woman,” Amanda said, and Gavin saw her face flush red. “Mr. Moony gave me a book. But how did Mr. Moony get pregnant? It doesn’t make sense.”

It was quiet in the greenhouse, and nobody talked.

Finally Draco spoke up. “The first time, with Oakley, it wasn’t his choice. He was a prisoner, and they were experimenting on him, trying to boost the numbers of werewolves. They had him in some kind of lab, I guess.”

“What about this time though?” said Ginny thoughtfully, “No one was experimenting on him, then.”

“They went to the centaurs for the birth,” said Amanda. “Remember that night, Gav?”

“Yeah,” said Gavin. He did remember that night, though he had been so young, Mr. Moony and Mr. Sev waking them up to say goodbye, and sailing off in the moonlight to have the baby. That baby was Oakley now, and soon, there was going to be another baby.

“Maybe the centaurs did some extra magic on him …… so he could get pregnant again,” said Ginny.

“But he’s not the only one….. right?” said Dudley. “There have been - other blokes - wizards I mean - that have gone up the duff.”

“Yeah,” said Draco. “But the magic to do it is hard and kind of dangerous.”

“It's worse because Moony is a werewolf,” said Harry.

“Being pregnant during all those changes….” Ginny shuddered. “I can’t imagine it.”

“But….. what about the actual sex?” asked Amanda.

“Between Moony and Snape?” asked Harry.

“Yeah…. “ persisted Amanda. “How does it work?”

“Not my department,” said Harry, taking a long drink of his cocoa. “Draco?”

“Fuck you, Potter.”

“No thank you,” replied Harry.

“I can explain it,” spoke up Dudley. “It’s not that complicated. It’s either oral or anal.”

“Eww,” said Amanda, and Gavin had to agree with her.

“It’s not eww,” said Dudley.

“You really do it in the butt?”

“Yup.”

“Isn't it gross?”

“No, it's fine. It feels incredible.”

“What about…. poo?”

Dudley shrugged. “Take a shower first,” he said. “It’s not a big problem.”

“So it's ….fine.”

“It’s totally fine.”

“Use condoms,” put in Ginny. “You don’t want to get an STD.”

“Yeah, or you could get male preggo, like Moony.” Harry waved his fingers and made an eerie _oooh_ sound. “Someone could put a spell on you in your sleep.”

"I'm female," Amanda pointed out.

"Arse preggo, then," said Harry. "Is that a thing?"

"No," said Ginny. "Its not a thing. And you're drunk." She took Harry's cocoa out of his hand and took a sip.

"Not very,"said Harry and he reached over and kissed her on the mouth.

"Get a room you two," said Draco dryly.

“Do _you_ use condoms?” Amanda asked, looking at Dudley.

“We did,” said Dudley. “In the beginning. Not anymore.”

Gavin couldn’t imagine ever wanting to do that. He felt as if the conversation had left him with even more questions than he’d had before. _“I’m glad I’m still a kid,_ ” he thought.The talk drifted off to other things, and eventually Gavin got up and went back into the house to pee.

In the kitchen soft music was playing. Mr. Moony and Mr. Sev were dancing together, holding each other close. They obviously hadn’t heard him come in. They seemed lost in each other, and the music, drifting in a world of their own. Gavin watched them quietly from the shadows, and wondered.

********

In their bedroom, Remus and Sev got changed and slipped gratefully into bed together.

“Long day,” Sev commented.

“And a busy one tomorrow,” Remus added. “We’re due at Aunt Pepper and Aunt Spider’s for Christmas breakfast.” Sev’s two maiden aunties lived in a splindly old house on an island off the Cornish coast, and they doted on the children.

“You feeling all right?”

“Yeah,” said Remus. “I’m good. Happy. Baby’s happy too.” He put Sev’s hand on his belly so he could feel her kicking. “She’s saying hello.”

Sev felt his daughter, moving in her watery world.

“I thought it would be more like fourteen,” he said to Remus, sleepily, snuggling close against him.

“What?”

“Amanda’s period.”

“Mmm,” said Remus. “I didn’t think about it at all.”

“Lily was fourteen,” said Sev.

“Lily told you when she got her period?”

“We were best mates.”

“Hmm," said Remus. "Maybe you really _are_ gay."

“I don’t know why you question the obvious,” said Sev, feeling very gay indeed, as he planted a tongeuy kiss on Remus’ mouth, and gave his balls a possessive squeeze for good measure.

********

Outside the house on Spinner's End a dark figure lurked in the cold. He watched as people came and went. He fingered a rolled parchment - a letter - that was stuffed into his pocket. He didn’t know what to do. He watched as the little house, glowing with light, gradually grew dark. At last, once every light in the house was extinguished, Blaise Zabini pulled his jacket more tightly around himself and headed toward home.


	15. Wand and Washer

It was late when Dudley and Draco left Spinner’s End and returned to their flat. Dudley plugged in the tree and Draco poured them a night cap. They sat together in the glow of the Christmas lights and kissed, lazy and drunk.

“When do you want your present?” Draco asked. He was excited about the gift, hoping Dudley would be pleased.

“Ermm…..Now?” said Dudley.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” said Dudley.

“ _Accio present!_ ” Draco said, and the small box came sailing out of the bedroom where he had hidden it in the closet.

Dudley took the flat box and studied it curiously.

“Is it a tie?” he guessed. That didn’t seem like the sort of present Draco would get him.

“Open it and see,” Draco said.

Dudley slit the wrapping along the edge of the box, remembering the Christmases of his childhood, filled with mountains of gifts to unwrap. Most of those presents had been quickly broken or discarded. He liked this better - the excitement contained in the single, flat box.

He got the wrapping undone and opened the lid. He felt a tingle of what he now recognized as magic. Inside, a polished wooden wand lay glowing against a lining of pink silk.

“For….me?” Dudley asked with wonder. Draco nodded in reply. “My own magic wand?”

“I thought it was about time you had one of your own,” said Draco. “And stopped borrowing mine.“ Though in truth, Dudley hardly ever did any magic.

Dudley kept staring at the wand. “Pick it up,” said Draco at last. “It won’t bite.”

Dudley picked up the wand in two fingers and held it gingerly. It felt warm, alive.

“What….what’s it made of?”

“The core is dragon heart string,” Draco replied. “Like mine. And the outside is oak. I thought that would suit you. Strong and steady and….and true of heart.”

Dudley waved the wand experimentally. He felt a warm tingle in his fingertips and a few sparks flew out the end. He laughed, surprised. “My own magic wand,” he said.

“I thought I could teach you a few spells, and maybe you could take some lessons from Lupin and Snape. They were both Hogwarts professors, after all.”

Dudley stood, and swept the wand in a wider arc. A few blue bubbles came out the end and drifted to the ceiling where they burst with a series of small pops. He waved it again and a tiny yellow canary flew out and started twittering around the room. He laughed again.

“Don’t you want _your_ present?” he asked Draco.

“Sure,” said Draco, smiling at him.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Dudley, heading for the bedroom.

“Use your wand,” suggested Draco. Dudley stopped dead and stared at the wand in his hand.

“You remember the spell?”

Dudley nodded. He raised the wand, screwed up his face in concentration. _“Accio present!_ ” he cried as Draco had done earlier. A heavy package came sailing out of the bedroom. Dudley caught it and handed it to Draco.

“Happy Christmas,” he said.

It was obviously a book, clumsily wrapped by Dudley himself. Draco tore off the wrapping. _Great Buildings of the World_ was the title. Draco opened the cover and started paging through it.

“It’s not much…” Dudley said, looking down at the ground. “I just thought…..Because you like buildings and all….”

“It’s…..” Draco said. He looked up from the book. “This is a great gift, Dudley. Thank you.”

“Really? You like it?”

“Yeah, really.” He got up and took Dudley in his arms. “Thank you,” he said again.

They held each other for a few minutes.

“Maybe I've got something else for you,” said Dudley. He swivelled his hips, pressing his groin against Draco’s.

“All right,” Draco said, gasping, feeling his own arousal pulsing through him, as Dudley pushed into him, hard and ready. He ran his hand over the bulge in Dudley’s jeans, and Dudley grunted appreciatively. Draco undid Dudley’s belt, unzipped him, and Dudley wriggled out of his jeans. He shoved Draco down onto the couch and started undoing his black trousers. He pulled them off, undid Draco's shirt and pushed up his vest. He kissed Draco’s chest, his teeth grazing Draco’s nipples.

“Summon the lube,” Dudley murmured into his ear, pushing his groin into Draco’s again. Draco pushed back, his cock rising to meet Dudley’s.

“You do it,” he whispered, smiling at him.

“Me?”

“Try it,” said Draco

“I’m a bit distracted at the moment, mate.” said Dudley looking down.

“Go on,” Draco said.

Dudley fumbled for his wand. He raised it towards the bedroom. _“Accio lube!”_ he cried and grinned as the tube came sailing out of the bedroom.

“Now let’s get naked,” he said gruffly, pulling off his shirt and vest. Draco did the same, and lay back while Dudley lubed his arse.

“Here,” he said. He grabbed the lube from Dudley and squeezed some into his palm. He started lubing Dudley's cock which was thick and long and pulsing with energy.

“Budge up,” said Dudley hoarsely and Draco leaned back and spread his legs. Dudley shoved a cushion under his arse. And then he was inside him, and Draco gasped with pleasure.

“All right?“ Dudley asked.

“Good,” Draco grunted. “More.”

Dudley grabbed Draco’s cock and started fucking him in earnest. “Yeah,” Draco heard himself cry. “Oh yeah.” He never had known he could be this person, so free, and wild and….primal as he was in these moments with Dudley. “Do me babe,” he heard himself grunt. “Harder!” and finally just a string of obscenities as Dudley thrust again and again, into the very center of him and brought them both over the edge.

“Happy Christmas,” said Dudley, smiling down at him, kissing the widow’s peak at the center of his forehead.

“Happy Christmas,” Draco replied. With his last bit of strength he found his wand.

 _“Accio quilt,_ ” he whispered and the quilt came sailing out of their bedroom and settled over them as they both fell into a deep sleep.

********

Remus had been putting aside money for some time and so on Christmas morning he woke up truly excited about his gift for Sev. He heard the crinkle of wrapped presents at the foot of the bed, but ignored his gifts for now. His present for Sev was too big to be wrapped and left at the foot of the bed. He went downstairs and used his wand to summon a large bulky object from the greenhouse where he had hidden it behind a pile of old junk. Humming to himself he fixed a large red ribbon around it, bending and twisting in spite of his big belly. He tied the ribbon into a bow, and touched it with his wand to get it to stand up perkily.

He made coffee in the grey light of morning, filled two mugs and brought them upstairs. He could hear the boys unwrapping gifts in their room, their voices loud and excited over the crinkle of paper.

He crawled back into bed beside Sev and sipped his coffee. In a few minutes Sev woke up. “Happy Christmas,'' Remus said, handing him a mug of steaming coffee.

The boys rushed in, excited about their gifts. Gavin was lovingly cradling a broomstick servicing kit from Harry and Ginny. Oakley wore a muggle fireman’s hat and clutched a huge box of chocolate frogs and a train that hooted softly and started to fill the room with steam.

The boys snuggled in bed and watched while Remus and Sev opened their presents. There was an assortment of homemade gifts from the children . Amanda had made them fudge, and Oakley’s gift was an old tin can, decorated with glued on pieces of pasta, spray painted gold.

“It’s to put your quills in,“ he said proudly. "We maded them at preschool. Amanda helped me wrap it."

Sev had gotten Remus a large richly illustrated Herbal he’d been eyeing hungrily for some time.

“Thank you,” he said, meaning it. He kissed Sev on the mouth. “You’ll have to go downstairs for your present.”

They put on dressing gowns and they all trooped downstairs, joined by Amanda who was yawning sleepily. There, white and gleaming beside the tree was a large modern washing machine.

“ _Mrs. McMimble’s Automatic Washer for the Busy Magikal Home._ ” said the label plastered across the top.

“Oh my,” said Sev. He was smiling. He turned to Remus and shook his head. “I thought we couldn’t afford this.”

Remus shrugged “I’ve been saving,” he said. “And I was tired of hearing you complaining about the old one."

“Adults are weird,” Gavin declared. “Who wants a washing machine for Christmas?”“You might, if you had to do the laundry, “ Amanda observed.

“I think it’s pretty,” said Oakley.

“It’s fantastic,” Sev declared. “Mr. Moony, you have outdone yourself!”

“I hoped you’d be pleased,” said Remus.

“All right everyone,” said Sev. “Time to get dressed. Aunt Pepper and Aunt Spider are expecting us for Christmas breakfast.”

  
*******

  
Remus showered then stood at the bathroom mirror and shaved, wearing only his boxers, pulled tight over his pregnant belly. Oakley sat on the toilet seat and watched him.

When he finished shaving he towelled off his face and slapped on some Fairy’s Friend Aftershave, enjoying the familiar refreshing tingle. Oakley looked up and put a hand on his belly.

“Baby,” he said, patting the bump.

“Your little sister,” Remus replied, smiling down at him.

“Sister,” repeated Oakley as if the concept was strange to him.

“You were in there once too, you know,” said Remus.

“I was?”

“Absolutely you were.”

“How did she get there?” asked Oakley.

Remus knelt down and looked into Oakley’s wide innocent eyes. He had been expecting this question eventually. He and Sev had already decided that when it came up they would have to answer honestly. “From sex,” he replied now.

“What’s sex?” asked Oakley.

“Sex is when two people love each other very much and they get very close. And it feels good. And one person puts their penis inside the other and seeds come out. You know about seeds, right?”

Oakley nodded solemnly. He helped Remus plant seeds in the greenhouse all the time.

"Well, then a baby starts to grow. And when they’re ready to be born they come out. And that’s where babies come from.”

Oakley thought about this. “Did Papa put a seed in you?” he asked.

“That’s right.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No,” said Remus, smiling at him. “It didn’t hurt.

“Did I start the same way?” Oakley wondered.

Remus hesitated. This was the part of the story that was hardest to explain, especially to a child. “Not….exactly,” he said at last. “You were started in a lab. You were part of an experiment.”

“A…..speriment?”

“Yes.”

“Where was Papa?”

“He wasn’t there for the start of you, love. He came along when you were already growing inside me.”

“Who put the seed in, then?” asked Oakley.

“We… we don’t actually know. Because it was an experiment.”

“Oh.” Oakley stood a long moment, thinking this through. “But Papa’s still my papa, right?”

“Most definitely.”

“Do you think Aunt Spider made trifle?”

“Let’s hope so,” said Remus. He put his arms around the little boy and hugged him close, kissed the soft curls on the top of his head. “Now go ahead and get dressed. The aunties are waiting!”

Oakley went up the stairs and Remus went into his own room, where Sev was brushing his hair before the mirror that was set into the wardrobe.

“I had the talk with Oakley.” Remus said, sitting down on the bed heavily.

Sev looked at him sharply. “Talk? What talk?”

“He asked me where babies came from and I told him.”

“Oh,” said Sev. “That talk. How did it go?”

“Okaaaay, I think,” said Remus. “I had to tell him that you're not his biological father.”

“Really?” said Sev. “You told him that?” He sat down on the bed beside Remus.

Remus grabbed Sev’s hand and held it. “I didn’t really have much choice,” he said. “We agreed we’d be honest with him, when the time came.”

“I know….” said Sev. “But still….”

“He wanted to know if you were still his Papa.”

“What did you say to that?

“I told him of course you were.”

“And he…. Accepted that?”

“He seemed to. He changed the subject to Aunt Spider’s trifle.” They sat on the side of the bed holding hands, staring at the open wardrobe.

“Sev?” Remus said at last.

“What?”

“We should see a lawyer.”

“Whatever for?”

“I want you to formally adopt him. Both children. Phoenix too, once she’s born.”

“Can I do that?"

“I don’t know, but I think we should find out.”

“Do you know anyone?”

Remus shrugged. “There’s Sirius’ family’s old solicitor, Heironymus Crouch. He’s a bit of an old blowhard, but….I don’t really know anyone else.”

“All right,” said Sev. “Owl him”

  
*******

  
Draco accompanied Dudley to Christmas lunch at number four Privet Drive. He really had no idea what Petunia and Vernon thought of him, or what they understood about his relationship with their son. It had been years now and clearly the subject of _I’m gay and Draco is my boyfriend_ had been put in a nether world of partial denial. They must know on some level, they had to, but it was never discussed.

When they arrived Vernon was sitting in the lounge with Aunt Marge, who sat primly with a glass of Christmas punch, a bulldog drooling into her lap. The mantle was decorated with photos of Dudley in every phase of childhood, from fat baby to chubby little boy, to a rather handsome one of him winning a wrestling championship after he had started slimming.

“Dudders!” Aunt Marge screamed. She set down the bulldog and heaved herself out of her seat waddling over and pushing Draco aside to give Dudley a hug. “How’s my favorite nevvy?”

Dudley had told Draco that when he had been younger he had been paid to endure Aunt Marge’s embraces. Now he tolerated them out of a sense of duty and general maturity “Aren’t you all grown up to such a handsome man!” she exclaimed, pinching Dudley’s cheek. “Just like your father, eh Vernon?”

Vernon had risen as well, rather unsteadily. He shook Draco’s hand, and then clasped his son in a brief, manly hug.

“And how’s your handsome friend?” said Aunt Marge, turning to Draco.

“Hello,” said Draco, uncertainly. He was never quite sure what to call Aunt Marge. “Happy Christmas.”

“Aren’t you two a couple of lookers,” Aunt Marge gushed. “The ladies must be lining up for a chance at you.”

Draco just smiled in what he hoped was a neutral way.

“Can I get you boys some punch?” Vernon said in a jovial tone.

“Yes, thank you,” said Draco at once.

They sat in the lounge and drank punch while Aunt Marge went on about her various bulldogs and Colonel Thubster. One good thing about Aunt Marge - there was no need to say too much. She was perfectly happy to fill up the conversation with stories about herself and her dogs. Draco sat and smiled politely and got steadily drunker on Vernon’s punch, which was strong enough to make his eyes water.

At last Petunia came out from the kitchen, dressed in a ruffly Christmas dress and announced that dinner was ready. She had made roast beef and yorkshire pudding . The food was excellent but the heavy meal combined with the alcohol made Draco feel heavy and slow. The dinner table conversation was another of Aunt Marge’s favorite topics - Harry, and what a waste of space he was.

“What’s he doing now anyway?” she asked Dudley, with a drunken slur. “On the dole, I expect.”

“He works in an office,” said Dudley briefly.

“Dull, boring job, probably,” she said.

Dudley shrugged noncommittally.

“Wastrel,” declared Aunt Marge. “I always said he would come to a bad end, that one.”

“He’s getting married,” said Dudley.

“Dull, ugly girl I imagine,” said Marge.

“Actually, she’s a real beauty,” said Dudley. “We’re in the wedding party, Draco and I.”

It was the most he had said all evening. Aunt Marge stared at him, open mouthed.

“Trifle Marge?” said Petunia, getting up to serve dessert in an attempt to change the subject.

After the trifle was eaten Draco made his excuses, saying he had some work to do at home. Petunia asked Dudley to stay and help her hang some curtains. Dudley saw Draco out and gave him a quick goodbye kiss in the front hall.

“See you at home,” he said.

“Yeah,” Draco agreed.

“I won’t be long,” Dudley said.

“See that you're not,” said Draco as he left.

It was a chilly grey afternoon, the clouds lowering. Draco decided to walk home, hoping the cold air would clear his fuzzy head. He left Privet Drive and cut through the alley behind Magnolia Crescent, heading for the High Street that would lead him out of Little Whinging and back towards Cokeworth. He had just entered the narrow street when, without warning, he heard the pop of apparition loud all around him, and then he was hit by a jelly legs jinx which brought him to his knees.

He grabbed his wand and stared up at his old friends, Crabbe, Goyle and Theo Knott.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Theo cried and Draco felt his wand go flying out of his hand.

Theo scoffed.

“Learned a few things from your side there, Malfoy.” He spat, and that seemed to be some sort of signal, because the next thing Draco knew, Crabbe and Goyle were punching him in the face, repeatedly, until his nose was bleeding and his ears rang.

“We know you’re a faggot Malfoy, and hanging about with that muggle beefcake,” Theo said with scorn.

“Muggle born,” Draco corrected them before he could help himself, wiping blood from his nose. “He’s a wizard, actually.”

“We don’t care about your big handsome bumboy, Malfoy,” said Theo. He spat again, derisively. “What we care about is what you're going to do for us.”

“What makes you think…?” Draco began but Crabbe silenced him with a blow to the head that knocked him sideways and made him see stars.

Theo stood there, twirling Draco’s wand between two fingers, like a miniature baton. Draco remembered practicing those moves with him for hours in the green Slytherin common room, perfecting them.

“What do you want?” said Draco, hoping he wasn’t going to throw up. He could taste blood in his mouth and his head was spinning pretty badly.

“We want …..." said Theo, “What do we want, boys?”

“Come back to us, Draco,” said Crabbe, his voice suddenly plaintive. “You're a pureblood, a Malfoy. You belong with us.”

“Yes,” said Theo. He threw Draco's wand in the air. It turned end over end in a graceful tumbling motion, then came back to earth. Theo caught it neatly between two fingers. Draco wanted it back so badly his fingers twitched. “That’s exactly what we want. Act like your blood, your family, your heritage demands. We are weak now. The Order of the Phoenix has taken command, but our time will come and we will rise again. We are for the proper order of things. Be true to your blood, Draco, to your family. Help us put the world right, before it’s too late.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked Draco, grudgingly.

“Spy for us Draco, that’s all. They trust you, that’s obvious. If you can tell us what they’re up to. Well…..” Theo grinned. “The Dark Lord is gone, but we have a new leader. Someone who may be as powerful as Voldemort, maybe even more so.”

It felt so strange, hearing the name from Theo's lips. Draco half expected a thunderclap to come from the sky and smite him, or a posse of Death Eaters to start apparating around them to invoke their retribution. But nothing happened. The air in Magnolia Crescent remained cold and still.

Theo and Draco had been friends once. Theo had been his best friend, probably, in their years as Death Eater wanna bes. Draco looked at him now and searched his mind frantically for a weakness, a soft spot, but he came up with nothing.

“Give me back my wand,” said Draco. “And I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it,” said Theo, tossing the wand in the air again. He watched it as once again it made its graceful descent down, tumbling over and over, end to end. Once again Theo caught it and twirled it in his fingers. “I’m afraid it's not up to you.”

 _“Expelliarmus!_ ” Dudley's voice rang out from the other side of the alley. He was standing there, his new wand raised, his other hand outstretched in the dusky afternoon light. He caught Draco’s wand neatly.

 _“Stupefy!”_ Dudley shouted and the stunner leapt from his wand and hit Goyle, dead in the chest. He fell to the ground with an enormous thud. Theo and Crabbe pulled out their wands, and Dudley tossed Draco his wand. He caught it and struggled to his feet. Then it was a two on two duel, spells and stunners zinging through the alley, ricocheting off the neat wooden fences that lined the narrow space, toppling rubbish cans that had been left out for the binman. Draco got Theo with a jelly legs jinx and Dudley got Crabbe with another stunner and the two of them stood there in the alley looking down on their enemies. Crabbe and Goyle lay stunned, and Theo was struggling to get his rubbery legs under him.

“Leave us the fuck alone,” Draco said. And he grabbed Dudley’s arm and they apparated away.


	16. Eileen's Diary

Oakley liked Aunt Pepper and Aunt Spider. He liked the boat ride to their island home, and their spindly house that clung to the side of a cliff over the sea. He liked the food they served - funny little sandwiches, and cauliflower pie, and trifle. The two old ladies doted on him, and surreptitiously passed him sweets he was not supposed to have. Aunt Pepper took him out to the goat shed, and let him feed corn to the baby goats. Oakley liked their rough sandpaper tongues on his hand, and the way that they butted their heads against his stomach. Aunt Spider sat with him before the crackling fire and taught him how to play Go Fish with a worn set of Muggle playing cards.

By the time they got home dusk was falling. Moony made a huge bowl of popcorn for dinner and they all settled down in front of the old TV in Moony and Sev’s bedroom to watch a movie called _A Christmas Carol._ The movie was very old, so old it didn’t even have color in it. It wasn’t particularly interesting to Oakley, as there were no trains, or planes or animals in it. Just a bunch of people talking. After a while he slipped away, and went downstairs through the kitchen and out into the snowy garden.

Dandylion was waiting for him.

“Where’s my Christmas present?” the gnome demanded, in a grumpy voice. He had a sprig of holly stuck into his hat.

Oakley dug into his pocket and produced the slightly battered sugar plum fairy he had saved out from his aunties’ house. It was wrapped in shiny purple paper. Its wings, bent at a funny angle, flapped feebly.

Dandylion took the treat and nodded with approval. In his tiny hands the bonbon looked like an oversized quaffle.

“I see you’re getting a new washer,'' he said conversationally, pointing to the old washer where it sat by the back gate, ready to go out to the alley and be taken away by the binman.

Oakley nodded, not terribly interested.

“Out with the old, in with new,” Dandylion observed. He shook his head. “That’s always the way with you humans.”

Oakley looked over at the old washer. In the low light it looked like some sort of prehistoric beast, heavy and hulking.

“There’s something in there,” said Dandylion solemnly. “Something important.”

“Is it …..treasure?” asked Oakley hopefully. Moony had read him a book about pirates and he had been hunting for hidden treasure for weeks.

“Not exactly treasure…. No…” said Dandylion thoughtfully. “But…. something….significant. Something you might not want to lose track of.”

“What is it?” asked Oakley.

“Look and see,” said Dandylion.

Oakley went over to the old machine. It was partially cast in shadow by the street lights far above. It looked menacing, and Oakley shivered.

“Go on,” coaxed Dandylion. “You're a brave boy, aren’t you?”

“ _I am a brave boy,_” thought Oakley, mustering up his courage. He moved closer to the hulking metal object. Where would something important be hidden? He looked into the washtub. Nothing there. He inspected the rusty steel washboard, put a finger on its chilly metal edge. He had forgotten his jacket and he was cold.

“Look underneath,” Dandylion suggested.

Oakley squatted down and bent his head to look under the bulky machine. The washtub sat in a metal framework, made of heavy steel. He inspected the underside of the tub. And there, he saw something, attached to the bottom with tape, yellowed and brittle with age. It easily pulled away when he grabbed it.

It was a small glass vial, corked with a rubber stopper. Oakley shook it. Inside was something long and thin. It looked like a piece of bone.

“Oakley!” Papa’s voice was sharp. “Are you out here?”

“I gotta go,” said Oakley, putting the vial in his pocket.

“Don’t lose that now,” said Dandylion sternly.

“I won’t,” said Oakley.

“Happy Christmas!” said Dandylion.

“Happy Christmas!'' said Oakley. He ran into the warm house.

That night, before bed, he hid the glass vial in his sock drawer, far in the back where no one would find it.

********

Boxing Day was chilly and grey. Amanda slept late and woke with a sticky stained pad between her legs. “Ick,” she thought, with disgust. At least the cramps were better. She went down to the bathroom, wrapped the bloody, smelly pad in bog paper, as Ginny had instructed her, and threw it in the trash. She took a long hot shower, letting the water sluice over her still unfamiliar new body, her breasts, her vagina covered with coarse brown hairs. How could this be her? She wondered. Was she still the same person? She didn’t really want to change, but change, unwelcome, had come to her.

She washed between her legs, again and again, anxious to remove any trace of blood, of that weird animal smell. She got out and dried herself, attached a fresh pad to a clean pair of knickers, pulled on trackie bottoms and an old jumper.

Mr. Moony was in the kitchen when she got downstairs. The room smelled of cooking, some kind of soup or stew he was making for supper. He was solicitous to her, asked her if she was all right with a worried look on his face. He fixed her tea and toast, and made her take a couple of the Muggle aspirins that Ginny had brought over.

Amanda took her breakfast into the lounge and curled up in front of the fire. The house was quiet. Mr. Sev must be at work and the boys were probably outside running off steam with Biscuit. Amanda wished she could summon her book from her room, but knew she would get in trouble using magic outside of school. She stared at the flames for a long time, then at last she got up and made her way upstairs.

She crawled back into bed and read for hours, but eventually she grew restless. She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. _I’m fat,_ she thought with despair, looking at her reflection. She studied her face, and noted several new spots. She smiled and her braces glinted. She pulled her hair up into a messy bun. Ginny had said it was beautiful. She let it fall back around her face, tilted her head. That was better. What if she cut bangs? She tried holding up some stands in front of her forehead, to imitate bangs. Was that cute? Flirtatious? Or did it just accentuate her too round face? She couldn’t tell. She flopped back onto the unmade bed in frustration.

A cold December rain started to tap on the roof of her attic bedroom. She looked around the room. She thought she might die of boredom, but she dreaded the start of the new term. Maybe if she let them know how bad it was at Hogwarts they would let her stay home. She could help with the new baby…...

But she knew if she quit they would be disappointed in her. She knew they would tell her to be brave, to stick it out, and things would get better. Mr. Sev and Mr. Moony believed in Hogwarts. For all the terrible things that they had both gone through there, they had an unshakeable faith in the place.

At last she grew hungry, and wandered downstairs. She grabbed a couple of cookies from the jar. In the lounge, Gavin and Oakley were sprawled on the floor. Gavin was trying to teach Oakley to play Gobstones, with the new set he’d got for Christmas.

“Play with us!” Gavin begged. “It's better with three.”

It was actually fun, playing Gobstones, and Amanda’s spirits lifted. After they grew bored of the game she wandered into the library, thinking she might find something interesting to read. Biscuit followed her, whining for attention and she scratched him between the ears absently. She started looking through the books. There were all sorts of odd and interesting things in there. She pulled out a heavy tome entitled _The Enchanted World of Gnomes._ She was just about to open the dusty cover when she saw something else, stuck behind it. She grabbed it curiously.

It was a small leather bound book, small enough to hold comfortably in her hand. The cover was decorated with tooled scrolls and curlicues. _Diary_ said the letters, embossed in faded gold across the front. It was locked with a small brass lock. Amanda pulled on the aged tab and it broke, releasing a tiny dust storm of crumbling leather.

Amanda opened the diary. The yellowed pages were filled with clear, old fashioned script. She began to read.

_December 26, 1948_

  
_Dear Diary,_

_I am so glad Mum and Dad got you for me for Christmas and I am going to write in you every day, I promise!!!! I think I shall name you Heather. I think that is such a romantic and beautiful name, don’t you agree? I am so glad that I have you for a friend and I am going to tell you everything!_

_Christmas Day was quite fun as I got you of course! Besides that Aunt Pepper and Aunt Spider came across the channel from Paris and they brought me a real fur muff and cap which is so soft and silky and all the girls at school will be quite green with envy, I believe! Besides, Pepper and Spider are always lively and full of fun, though they annoy Mum dreadfully. But they got everyone playing charades, and sang naughty songs in French and even Mum had fun though she wouldn’t admit it._

_Anyway, today is Boxing Day and it's terribly boring. I wish my hair would lie flat and I got three new spots! Now that Christmas is over I just wish that school would start again! Anyway, I’ll write more tomorrow._

_Your best friend,_   
_Eileen_

“Whatcha looking at?” Oakley wandered into the study. He lay down on the floor and started scratching Biscuit, who rolled over and showed his belly and thumped his tail on the floor.

Amanda tucked the diary inside her jumper. “Look,” she said to Oakley. “I found a book on gnomes.” The book was full of charming old fashioned illustrations and lots of interesting facts about gnomes.

“Read it to me?“ said Oakley with interest.

They curled up together in the big old armchair in the study and Amanda read the book to Oakley until Mr. Sev came home and it was time for supper.

*******

On Boxing Day the Night Circus was on the move. Tents were folded, rides and attractions were tucked away into incredibly small packages and loaded on carts. Narcissa and Lucius readied their caravan for travel, securing drawers and tucking away loose odds and ends so that nothing would be dislodged during the trip.

Everything was loaded onto the circus train with profound efficiency. The roadies were incredibly good. Swarthy, hard edged men with bulging muscles they worked silently and swiftly. They kept to themselves, operating under some kind of code of their own, and when every last tent and booth was packed onto the train they retired to their own car and did not come out again.

Lucius and Narcissa were assigned a small sleeping compartment. It had a table and benches against a large window with a berth above it, a small toilet and sink. Once the train got under way, Lucius climbed into the berth. As the train wound its way eastward through the grimy suburbs of Paris he fell asleep, lulled by the gentle rocking of the train.

He dreamed of Draco, as he often did - of the beautiful son he had loved who had betrayed him and all his hopes for him. He dreamed of Draco as a small boy, playing in the green fields around the Manor, his flaxen hair blowing in a summer breeze, his grey eyes filled with trust. He dreamed of a small hand, clutched in his own. He dreamed of Draco as an adolescent, on his broomstick, flying above the quidditch pitch at Hogwarts, the snitch held triumphantly in his hand. He dreamed of Draco, shrunken into himself, his eyes downcast as the Dark Lord bullied and berated him, for his cowardice, his failure. And he dreamed of the last time he had seen Draco, the hurt and question in his eyes, the anger blazing suddenly forth, the curve of his back as he turned away from his father for good.

Lucius woke trembling, that vision of his son’s back still etched across his eyelids. The finality of it. He shuddered. Night had fallen while he had been sleeping, the carriage was dark. The creaking and groaning of the train no longer seemed reassuring, but ominous.

He lay in the dark, ruminating on his dream. It had all seemed so real. He’d had such hopes for Draco, that he would take his place beside him, even surpass him. He wouldn’t have minded. He had envisioned Draco as second in command to the Dark Lord himself, especially once that traitor, Snape, was revealed in all his true colors. Lucius had never trusted him - never. Not when they were at school - Snape - too skinny, his clothes carefully patched, that hungry look in his glittering dark eyes. No, even then, Lucius had identified him as a tool to be used, not as a comrade to be trusted. He was a halfblood and even his wizarding lineage was - well - less than appealing. The Princes had been strivers for generations. They’d never had the money to be included among the true elite. Lucius’ own mother had been friendly to Eileen Prince - kind to her, but had always considered her more of a charity case than an equal.

Lucius remembered the first time he had met Snape. He must have been seven or eight years old, Snape a tiny boy of three or four. It had been a Christmas party at Grimmauld place. Sirius Black must have been there, too, he supposed, and Regulus must have been a baby……He still remembered the quiet scorn with which his parents had discussed Eileen Prince, and her husband, Tobias, after that party was over.

And yet somehow.....somehow......Snape had stolen his son from him. He knew Draco had been living with Snape after he had run away, and now he knew other things too. His lawyer, Hieronymus Crouch, had a network of spies and informants all over England, looking out for the interests of his wealthy clientele. Well, Lucius was paying handsomely for the information he had on his son. But most of it turned his stomach.

He knew that Draco had graduated from Hogwarts, with honors. That he was working at Gringotts, as Lucius had always hoped he would. That he was living with a Muggle boy, who was rumored to be his lover. That he still hung around with Snape, and had been seen socializing with Harry Potter and his friends.

If only he could write to Draco, explain that a new movement was growing, show him that he could have a place, here, among others of his class, where the purity of his blood, the nobility of his heritage would be given its proper due. But Crouch had advised against contacting Draco, informing Lucius that the boy’s allegiance was clearly to Snape, and the order of the Phoenix, and that he was not to be trusted.

The door to their compartment creaked open and a yellow beam of light from the passageway cut into the darkness.

“Lucius,” came Narcissa’s voice. “Are you awake?”

“I am,” he replied groggily.

“Get up,” she said. “Rodolphus wants us to meet with him in his carriage.”

*******

Lucius and Narcissa proceeded down the long swaying line to the front of the train. From the compartments came the sounds of gentle chattering and laughter, the slapping of cards, the tinkle of cutlery. The members of the Night Circus were settling in for the long journey, relaxing, enjoying the reprieve in a punishing schedule of performances.

They stopped before a door marked “ _Director’s Car - Private”_ in ornate guilded letters.

“Private,” scoffed Lucius, reading the sign. He rapped on the door.

Narcissa knew it irked Lucius to play second fiddle to Rodolphus - the two had been rivals since their days at Hogwarts. She knew he was just biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to wrest power away from his brother in law.

Bella answered the door. She kissed Narcissa lightly in the cheek. “Cissy,” she breathed, and Narcissa shuddered at the cold reptilian feel of her skin, and caught a whiff of her slightly rank smell.

The Director’s Car was richly appointed, with brocaded wallpaper in a deep burgundy, velvet curtains at the windows, and wall sconces with tassled shades that threw a warm, inviting light. Rodolphus was attired in a jacket of plum colored satin and smoking a cigar. Peter was seated in the chair beside him.

Rodolphus rose to greet them. “Brandy?” he offered. He went over to a walnut liquor cabinet to pour out the amber liquor into elaborately cut glasses.

They settled into velvet easy chairs around a small pot bellied stove.

“To Bulgaria!” Rodophus said, raising his glass. They drank. Narcissa sipped at her brandy. The liquor warmed her and eased the ache in her heart. She was not happy about leaving Paris. The train labored on, ever eastward, deep into the heart of Europe, further away from her son.

“Explain to me why we need to go to Bulgaria,” said Lucius now.

“Well,” said Rodolphus. He paused and took a sip of his brandy. He gave a meaningful look to Bella, who nodded.

“I have a lead,“ said Rodolphus. “On the whereabouts of Karkaroff.”

“Karkaroff!” Lucius spit. “That traitor! We don’t want to recruit the likes of him!”

Rodolphus held up his hands. “I knew you would react this way, Lucius. That’s why I hesitated to tell you, in all honesty. But Karkaroff may turn out to be very useful to us.”

“He turned his back on us when the mark burned. Where was he the night that the Dark Lord was resurrected? Probably off somewhere plotting with that other great traitor, Snape!”

“I don’t believe that Severus was ever allied with Karkaroff,” said Rodulphus, smoothly. “Snape’s allegiance, as we know now, lay with Dumbledore.”

“Dumbledore!” spat Bellatrix, and her face darkened as she said the name.

“I wouldn’t put it past Snape to double cross Dumbledore, as well as the Dark Lord,” said Lucius, with contempt. “He has proved himself to be a slimy, lying bastard, unreliable to the core.”

“Yes,” agreed Rodolphus. “And a brilliant occlumens as well,” he added, with a hint of admiration in his voice. “How he was able to pull the wool over the eyes of the Dark Lord for all those years, well, one can’t help but be a little bit impressed, is it not so?”

“Snape stole my son from me,“ said Lucius darkly. “I haven’t it in me to admire the least little part of him,”

“Tell us more of Karkaroff,” said Narcissa, hoping to change the subject. She did not really feel comfortable when the attention of this group was focused on Draco.

“Karkaroff is an interesting one,” said Rodolphus, leaning back in his velvet seat, puffing on his cigar, expansively. “His natural inclination is towards our movement, I believe, but he is a coward.”

“Possibly a useful coward,” hissed Bellatrix.

“Exactly, my dear,” said Rodolphus, smiling at her. “He and I have been in contact. He says he has information.”

“Information?” said Lucius. “What kind of information?”

“Ah,” said Rodolphus. “That, he will not say, without a meeting in person. A worthwhile journey don’t you think? Besides it is true that those at Durmstrang are our natural allies. And Karkaroff's connections there run deep. After the Dark Lord’s demise he emerged from the shadows and he is a professor there once again. So I am planning a little visit to Durmstrang to sniff the air, get a feel of the place. We need young recruits, and Hogwarts is all but impenetrable to us at the moment. But Durmstrang may prove to be fertile ground for our movement.”

“Do you have any idea what the information is that Karkaroff has?” asked Lucius.

“I don’t know,”said Rodolphus. “But I believe it may have something to do with his long association with Gregorovitch.”

“Gregorovitch?”

“Mykew Gregorovitch, the wandmaker. He was killed by the Dark Lord, when he could not tell him what had become of the Elder Wand. But Karkaroff was Gregorovitch’s friend, and I believe the two spoke about the deeper aspects of wand lore.”

“Where is the Elder Wand now?” said Lucius.

“Those fools in the Order of the Phoenix have returned it to what they believe is its rightful place.”

“Which is?”

“The bony claw of the late Albus Dumbledore. Yes, incredible as it is, they have taken this most powerful of magical objects, and buried it in the tomb of our enemy. The Dark Lord traced it there once, and they have returned it there after his demise.”

“And who is the master of the Deathstick now?”

“That is an interesting question, but most believe it to be Snape. He killed Dumbledore, and Dumbledore took it from Grindelwald in their great duel of 1945. The Dark Lord recognized this, and one of his goals was to kill Snape, and thus become the true master of the Deathstick, but in this he was thwarted, obviously.”

“And what of Snape?”

“He has shown his true colors, as a lackey of Dumbledore. He continues to teach at Hogwarts. He has taken up with the werewolf, Remus Lupin and a passel of children. To all appearances he is thoroughly domesticated. He seems content to let the Deathstick lie, unused, in Dumbledore's grave.

“That is the other reason that I wish to travel to Bulgaria,” continued Rodolphus. “Grindelwald’s eldest son, Antioch is a bit of a recluse. He lives in a remote location, in the Pirin mountains and receives few visitors. Through his brother Cadmus, however, I have been granted an audience with him. I am hoping to learn more from him, and recruit him to our cause. If we have all three brothers allied with us, if we can locate all the hallows, we will have a powerful resource indeed.”

“Now,” said Rodolphus. “There is work to be done. Peter, I am afraid I must send you back to England.”

“England?” said the small man, startled to have the attention of the group suddenly focused on him. “What am I to do there?”

"You have certain… abilities. You can slip in and listen where others cannot. Spy at the home of that traitor, Severus Snape. Spy on Dumbledore's old pet, Harry Potter and his friends. Spy on Lucius and Narcissa’s son Draco, and see if there might be any way to bring him back into the fold. He could be incredibly useful to us, if he can be recruited. Bella…” Rodolphus paused. “I hate to ask you to leave me so soon, but…..”

“I will go with Peter, my love,” she said at once. “He will need someone to help him remember..…important details. And we are used to working together.”

Narcissa’s heart was pounding in her chest, and she felt her vision blurring. She kicked back the last of her brandy, for fortitude.

“If Peter And Bella are going to England, let me accompany them,” she said. Her voice was rough with her eagerness, and with the unaccustomed alcohol.

Everyone in the room looked at her curiously.

“I can speak with Ollivander, and with Lovegood,” she explained. “Perhaps I will gain some additional information. I…. I am weary of sitting uselessly by. I want….a mission, some kind of….project, something to do. If Peter is gone I can no longer run the rat show,” she added, lamely. “And Lucius, you are needed here to assist Rodolphus with the circus. I can travel under a glamour, and Bella and Peter can stow away in my luggage. It makes sense,” she said, her eyes on Lucius, pleading.

He knew, of course, that she would attempt to contact Draco while she was in England. How could she not? Her mother's heart yearned for her son, above all else. Lucius understood this. His one previous attempt to contact his son had ended in disaster. His ego still stung from Draco’s words of rejection. The recrimination in his eyes. Perhaps Narcissa would have better luck.

“Go my dear,” he said, taking her hand. It was cold, like ice.

*******

So it was that in the grey light of dawn, when the train stopped in Zagreb for refueling, a lone figure emerged onto the platform. She was wrapped in a heavy traveling cloak, her face hidden within the shadows of her hood. She clutched a small hand valise. Inside, a rat and a snake were stowed. She climbed a set of slippery metal steps, wet from the fog that enveloped the station, crossed the tracks, and went to the ticket booth. Then she sat down on a wooden bench and waited patiently for the train to take her back in the direction from which she had come.


End file.
